#//wakes up grandpa for this before putting him back in the home

[batsandbirdbrains]

I want to write a fic set during season one of yj where Batman gets hurt really bad on a mission with the JL and the team sees him rushed to mount justice for the med bay and Dick sees Bruce basically mangled and bloody and hears someone say they think his heart stopped and Dick panics

The one where Robin runs away to the circus

Robin had chased after them, trying to follow them in the med bay, shouting Batman, B wake up! B! until someone holds him back, and that’s when he hears someone say they think Batman’s heart has stopped.

And Dick freaks out. His ears start ringing and his mouth is dry and he’s suddenly terrified. Because he was only Bruce’s ward. Alfred has no real way to claim custody of him, and he refuses to go back to the juvie the city threw him into the first time he was orphaned.

So Dick runs. He books it back to the manor and packs a bag, and he’s crying the entire time, and Alfred is out so he can’t even say goodbye to him, but he leaves a note explaining as best he can, telling Alfred to call Clark for more answers.

And after a little research, he uses a zeta tube to get to Europe, then hitchhikes until he stumbles upon Haly’s Circus.

Jack Haly welcomes Dick back with open arms, telling him he always has a home with the circus. But Dick can’t go by his real name, can’t be a Flying Grayson just yet. There are a few people in the JL who know his and Bruce’s identities, and he can’t be found that quickly.

So he takes his mom’s old stage name, from before she became a Grayson: The Skydancer.

And he becomes a huge hit right away, performing acrobatics for the circus. Like he was always meant to. He realizes how much he missed it. How much he missed the other members of the circus.

The fortune teller who still insists on him calling her auntie puts feathers and tinsel in his hair, changing them out with each new stop the circus makes. She reads his tarot cards and his palms and helps him with his stage makeup, painting glitter across his eyes and helping him with his hair.

The strongman tosses him around until he laughs uncontrollably, then shows him how to cook dinners he hasn’t had in years.

There are several other members of the troupe who have been around since before Dick was even born, and they remember him, they welcome him back as if he’d never left.

Jack Haly is like a grandfather, and he checks in Dick every night, making sure he’s alright and letting Dick help him with some of the business aspects of the circus. It was something Dick’s father used to do. It’s something Dick knows from both his father and from Bruce, having spent the last few years watching Bruce go over various Wayne Enterprises accounts. He’s a whiz at it, and Jack tells him as much.

Then after a few months, the team shows up. A few JL members show up. They’d been in the audience, they’d watched the show, they’d seen The Skydancer performing with the same fluid movements of Robin, if the boy they’ve been searching for since he ran.

And after the show, once the rest of the audience has left, Dick is helping clean up the popcorn booths when he notices them lingering in the fringes of the circus grounds. The lights are twinkling and the smell of popcorn and peanuts and cotton candy are still wafting in the air, and Dick feels his chest tighten. Because he can’t go back. He won’t go back. Not without Bruce.

He darts away to find Jack, and once he’s near Mr. Haly’s train car, he starts shouting for him, calling him grandpa in French, his voice strained, and the door to the train car slams open, Jack standing firm as Dick hides behind him.

They’re speaking to each other in rapid French, Jack asking what happened, what’s wrong, are you alright and holding on to Dick’s arms tightly. Dick is shaking his head, his panic finally spilling over and bubbling up in the form of tears dripping down his face.

Don’t let them take me, please let me stay, please he begs, pressing himself close to Jack, hugging him tight. Don’t leave me behind again, please!

Jack holds him tight, and several other members of the troupe who heard Dick panicking are standing near the train car now, looking to where the JL members and the team are walking towards them.

But then Bruce Wayne steps forward. Just Bruce. And Dick feels his breath catch in his throat, and a strangled shriek leaving his mouth, and he hides behind Jack. Because Bruce is dead. He’s seeing a ghost. It’s not real it can’t be real he heard them say his heart stopped he saw his mangled body.

“Dick, please,” Bruce begs. “I know what you think you saw, chum, but please. I’m right here. I’m right here.”

“You died,” Dick says. “I saw it. Your heart stopped, they said so. You’re not real”

“My heart did stop,” Bruce says gently. “But they started it back up. I was very very hurt, but I didn’t die.”

Jack Haly has to speak with Dick for several minutes, his voice soft, gentle, until he beckons for Bruce to come over. And Dick looks Bruce over for a long moment, his hands hovering as if he wants to reach out but he’s afraid of what he might find, and then he launches himself at Bruce. Bruce catches him, holds him tight, whispers to him while Dick cries.

[emtb319]

WIP Wednesday

“I’m trying Lucy, I really am.  That ship should have been out here long ago.”  He didn’t know that Brayman had received his message, and he was carrying it back to Earth.  The code meant to wake the astronauts was misinterpreted by the robot.  “I wish I could see our boys.  You’re still watching over them, right?”  Her star blinked at him.  “Thank you my love.  I’m trying to hold out, but it gets harder and harder with each passing day.  Maybe tracking time was a bad idea.”

It took some time for Jeff to realize how depressed he’d actually become.  One of the first things he did was put the clock away.  He became less and less obsessed and depressed about the passage of time, once he couldn’t see it anymore.

“Remember when Scott broke his arm?  I had just gotten home from one of my moon missions.  He was going on and on about the airplane show and the jumpers.”  Jeff smiled and laughed at the memory.  The house had gone eerily quiet, then they found Scott on the roof with his ‘parachute’.  Before anyone could stop him, Scott jumped off.  His makeshift parachute failed, but he got off easy, with only a broken arm.  It didn’t stop him though.  He would attempt it again 6 months later, but that attempt only resulted in a few bumps and bruises.

“And the first engine that Virgil fixed?”  Grandpa Grant had previously given him some engine parts to take apart, fix, and reassemble.  So, when his Mom complained about a weird noise from the engine, Virgil decided that he could fix it.  “There were parts scattered everywhere.  In just a few short hours, he had more than half of the engine torn apart and scattered around the garage and front yard.  I saw the video of your face.”  He laughed.  Her reaction had been priceless.  “In all fairness though, he did fix the part that made the weird noise, created a few thousand dollars worth of other damage, but he fixed the bad part.”

“John’s perch in the barn.  My favorite telescope had gone ‘missing’, and I was going absolutely crazy trying to find the thing.”  Gordon kept pointing outside, and Jeff and Lucy thought that he was asking to play in the sandbox, but they couldn’t watch him while they searched.  In the end Gordon dragged Scott out to the barn and pointed at the roof.  John had done a pretty good job with his perch and had their father’s telescope set up.  He was buried deep in his star charts and books.  “He wanted to see the meteor shower up close.  I swear, he would have snuck aboard my rocket, if he could.”  Jeff fell into a state of giggles.  “Seeing him up there, I couldn’t be mad.”

“And Gordon’s first aquarium.  He was so upset that his little carnival fish died when he tried to keep it in that little container.  He cried so much that night.”  The nearest store that sold decent aquariums was about an hour away, but it was totally worth it.  Jeff told him that morning that they were going on a special trip together, and Gordon just sulked while Jeff tied his shoes.  His eyes lit up when they entered the store.  Jeff had already decided on the size, and he let Gordon work with the salesperson for the rest.  A few days later, it was delivered.  Every person that came into our home for the next 6 months got his grand tour of his aquarium.

“Alan’s first trip to one of my launches.  I don’t know what was worse, Lee realizing that he lost Alan, or Lee nearly having a heart attack when he found Alan.”  Alan was a very excited toddler.  He was never allowed to visit his dad at work, but today not only was he allowed to visit, but he was allowed to see his father’s rocket up close, and would see it launch in a few days.  It was all he could talk about.  When they were shown around, Alan had gotten upset that he wasn’t allowed to get into it and sit in the cockpit.  So, when Uncle Lee was on babysitting duty, he slipped away.  Lee would later find him in the cockpit, seatbelt properly placed, playing with the launch controls, which he had managed to turn on.  Hence, the near heart attack.  Alan was less than thrilled when Lee picked him up and took him back to his brothers.  NASA was surprisingly not upset over it, and even invited Alan to come back to help them beef up their security.

“I just want to see them one more time, but I suppose I will get that chance when I join you Luce.”

[dshret]

"is this an audience or a mosaic?" Maleanor to Baur

Being within the presence of royalty meant there was a large amount of formality and maturity expected from him. Though Maleanor's words did force the knight to turn his head slightly and stare almost confused from the side he was standing at. It was fairly obvious to him, and he believed her to, but being incredibly blunt as always hardly goes down well even with the General. The princess? He would be a fool to even utter something slightly wrong even if at times it came out that way.

"An audience, my lady. The humans wished to speak on some matter." He had to force down his own opinions. If he could, it would have been a rant on how they could never be trusted to even talk a sentence within the royalty's presence. "General Lilia will be here shortly, I believe. Just in case."

[wholemeallbread]

... TOXIC BOYFRIENDS AND EXES / ꩜

with ... nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi x gn!reader

warnings ... cheating (rin), fem love interest (rin), lying (rin, isagi), parental issues-ish (isagi), nagi is just a bum (nagi), tiny emotional manipulation (isagi)

part one reo, sae, oliver

"SHE'S JUST A FRIEND" ꩜ ITOSHI RIN

you've known for quite a while that rin has had a... worrying childhood, to say the least. you're also aware that someone else has been his guiding light through his early teens, but is now long gone in the past. or that's what you thought. rin has been silent after hearing the news that his childhood "friend" recently moved back into town, but it's obvious that something else is going on.

especially when he's been visiting a certain house multiple times per week without telling you.

you've been aware of it for longer than he thinks. the moment you texted him "where are you?" instead of asking him to come home, he switched off sharing his location for good. he'll tell you he's just on a jog, but he's said it himself that he doesn't like bringing his phone because its too heavy. it becomes obvious when she starts coming to his games, waving and catching all of his attention while wearing one of his jerseys. you would know, because you accidentally stained one of them when you wore it.

even worse when his own brother that was miles away texted you, asking if you and rin were together. how did he even get your number? and why did rin not tell him you were already years deep into a relationship? oh, rin said he's stuck between the person he loves and the person he trusts? well, that shouldn't really be a question, should it? he should love and trust you, why is there somebody else that he could "pick"?

the break up was mutual. you could tell he was upset about it, but not as much as you, and you wonder why... maybe it's because he ended up in a relationship with said childhood friend only days later. you don't mean to pry in their business, but it's hard not to when you realise everywhere they go together, you've been with him before. this time, he's holding her hand, he's not hiding from the camera, he's smiling. rin has never smiled for you before. it hurts, it really hurts, but you're glad he didn't let things drag on. at least there's something left for you in his heart.

if he didn't love you in the first place, he should've just let you know from the beginning. it seems like you were some sort of test subject for his future.

BABY SYNDROME ꩜ NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi always puts in the bare minimum. you figured "maybe he puts in more effort for things he's passionate about?". well, one certainly is football; all of a sudden he has enough stamina to run a marathon and actually use his strength. since you're dating, he's passionate about you too, right?

keep lying to yourself. it's always you reaching out first, it's always you having to go to his house, it's always you waiting outside of his classrooms. on more than one occasion have you called him, been ignored under the thesis of "i'm too tired to talk, maybe tomorrow." and then being left on delivered for the next twenty four hours. and the cycle repeats over, and over, and over again. the last thing you wanted to end up being was a second reo (sorry to him, he's a lost cause) but when you're having to put his socks on for him like a toddler, unwillingly after he begs for help, that's where you draw the line. he's not a grandpa, and he's not sore. why would he need help?

it was unsurprisingly easy to break up with him. he let you go with ease, and it's not like he was going to argue to make him stay. one less person makes one less hassle, right? afterwards, it's inconvenience after inconvenience for him. now nobody wakes him up in the morning, or helps him with his missing homework, or does all of the work on group assignments so he can go "train". who's going to cook for him now? because it's not you or reo, and ordering takeaway is too much work.

nagi texted you to ask to get back together. you asked why. he said "it makes both of our lives easier". hell no.

MAMA'S BOY ꩜ ISAGI YOICHI

isagi is such a good boyfriend. honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he was the one you ended up marrying. he's sweet, his parents are sweet, everything was perfect. was perfect.

you don't know where or when you messed up, but isagi's mom doesn't seem to like you that much anymore. was it how you got awkward and didn't know how to respond? no, usually his dad helps you through conversations. were you a bad influence? no, surely not. isagi knows his own standards, and sometimes his attitude is worse than yours.

nowadays, isagi looks a bit nervous when you ask to come over. your usual routine together was completely disrupted. you can tell he's subtly avoiding you or keeping conversations brief. he doesn't even hold your hand when you're walking around school anymore. this man willingly used to sprint from your period to the other side of the school just to make sure you got to your class safely, and now, nothing. and why is he wiping his hands with disgust when he's the one sweating buckets? he would've apologised if it was his fault, so it's something to do with you.

"hey, so... my mom doesn't want us together..." well, excuse you? he's stuttering, trying to come up with excuses, but you don't even want to hear them. having your healthy relationship broken up by his mom? and what if you married him hypothetically? would he willingly divorce if his mom said to do it? you know he still loves you, judging from his longing glances and half smiles in your direction. you know it wasn't completely his decision. but if he really loved you, then creating a barrier between the two of you when she wasn't even around didn't make sense at all. he would risk his life for you, but not disobey her loose commands.

on some random important day, valentines or whatever, he tries to ask you out. he wants to "start over". can you even be angry when he looks so remorseful? coupled with flowers, your favourite sweet treats and everything... oh, you swear you can see tears in his eyes. maybe you'll think about it.

[yandere-3-sagau]

Yandere!SAGAU x Secret!Creator!Reader Part 3

Short Summary: You’re on the Crux and want to test the limits of your new abilities. While you’re on your way to Inazuma, more and more people become aware of your existence. characters: Venti, Xiao, Zhongli, Beidou, Kazuha warning(s): none word count: 2221

(Sorry i’ve been inactive. I stopped playing genshin but i’ve come back for my bby Neuvillette. i’m including him soon to this series hehe)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *.☽ .* : ✧.───

The Anemo Archon may be inactive, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t listening. As they always say, the wind carries words… even those meant to be kept secret.

Despite being a god that hasn’t shown himself to his people in ages, Venti is a lot more informed about his nation than most would think. And it’s not just his nation, but other nations as well.

So, when the wind carries the latest rumor to his ears, Venti drops the wine bottle he’s drinking. The glass shatters to the ground, the red liquid seeping into the wooden floors of Angel’s Share. Diluc groans, putting down the wine glass he was cleaning with a tired look on his face.

“Maybe it’s time you head home, Venti. It seems you’ve had too much to drink.”

Diluc’s words don’t seem to reach him as Venti’s aqua green eyes are widened in shock, his face unmoving. The red haired swordsman snaps his fingers in front of Venti’s face.

“You alright there?”

Venti snaps out of it, shaking his head. There’s a large smile on his face that he’s unable to wipe off.

“Yeah… it’s seems you’re right. I’ll be off, now.” He rushes out of Angel’s Share leaving Diluc bewildered at his speed.

“But you haven’t paid…” Diluc sighs, the words dying in his throat. He shakes his head at the Anemo Archon’s erratic behavior, red locks swaying.

As Venti exits the tavern, he jumps into the air and allows the wind to carry him, not caring who sees it.

His small frame is shaking with excitement over the new rumor… but he had to confirm it.

There have been countless times where the words he hears are false…but on the off chance that this new rumor is proven true, it would be groundbreaking.

So, Venti rides the current of the wind, directing it towards the neighboring nation of Liyue where the subject of the rumor was last spotted.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *.☽ .* : ✧.───

You’re shocked, seeing the almost love stricken gaze of the vigilant yaksha.

The curse word slips from your mouth but Xiao doesn’t bat an eye, too dazed.

When you finally regain your senses, you have no time to think about Xiao or how he even knows you’re the creator. All you know is that you’ve been discovered and that you need to get back on the Crux before Grandpa Fuyi wakes up and discovers you’re missing.

With that goal in mind, you close your eyes and try to concentrate, thinking of the lower deck of the Crux and Grandpa Fuyi.

Slowly, you open your eyes but immediately jump back, startled. Instead of the lower deck of the Crux, you’re faced with Xiao who has moved disrespectfully close to you.

Xiao’s body is moving on autopilot, subconsciously bringing himself closer as his mind is only filled with thoughts of you. He wanted in engrain the image of you so deep into his brain that he’d remember every detail even when he closed his eyes.

Your presence is so warm it feels like all of the pain he’s suffered has disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Even just the scent of you is so addicting that he’s unable to remain composed. No matter how disrespectful Xiao may seem for invading the creator’s personal space, the need to be near you overcomes any sense of shame he may have. When he notices your shock, he immediately bows his head down.

He can’t stop the tremble of his hands as he stands so close to you, his heart racing. If he just lifted an arm, he’d be able to touch you. He fights the urge with every bone in his body before speaking so quietly that you almost couldn’t hear him.

“I-I’m sorry! I just… I’ve only ever dreamed of meeting you… to think that you’re really here…”

You don’t notice the internal conflict Xiao is having, only feeling your anxiety rising. If Xiao is already aware of you, who knows who else has been informed of your “descension”.

“Listen, Xiao…” he shivers, hearing you call out his name. You’re heading to the exit, determined to find a hidden spot where you can try again to teleport.

“You may have confused me for someone else. I would love to stay and chat but I have some really serious business I need to attend to-“

“Your grace…”

The deep voice that cuts you off fills you with panic as you slowly turn your head and come face to face with the Geo Archon and the sole reason from your departure from Liyue. His tall stature blocks the only exit, hands twitching as his eyes rake all over you.

Zhongli’s long legs make wide strides over to you. He seems to have lost all reason now that he’s finally found you. That face… so filled with joy that it’s almost insane… it makes you shudder.

With deep fear and desperation, you squeeze your eyes shut.

The Crux, The Crux, The Crux…

Finally, you feel that familiar energy surge through you and you know you’ve succeeded. Zhongli and Xiao watch you disappear before their eyes, the Geo Archon’s hand stretched out to touch you before you vanish completely.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of a tea cup clashing against a table. When you open them again, you’re met with two sets of eyes that stare at you in shock.

In front of you, Kazuha and Beidou sit at a round table, the steam from a freshly made teapot slowly rising in the air as the room is filled with silence.

At least you made it to the Crux.

“Well, hello stranger. That’s quite the entrance you’ve made,” Beidou drawls. Her cheek rests upon her hands as she stares at you with interest.

You’re thinking of excuses to make when Kazuha decides to speak after staring at you for a while.

“You’re bleeding,” he says. Panicked, you look at your clothes for any indication of blood but you’re unable to see anything from the dark color of your clothes.

“N-No, I’m not…” you lie, trying to play it off.

“You are… and it must be a lot since I’m able to smell it all the way from here.”

Of course, you know he’s right. The pain is still there since it hasn’t been that long since you were shot and you’re not exactly an expert at patching wounds.

“Why don’t I help you,” Beidou says. “In exchange for the secret on that little entrance you made.” The leader of the Crux steps closer to you causing you to take a step back.

“No, that’s fine! I’m just passing by. My grandpa is on the lower deck and he’s recovering from a heart attack so I really need to-“

With speed faster than you could even comprehend, Kazuha’s hand grips your wrist tightly, preventing you from leaving.

“You’re too suspicious to let go… state your purpose or we’ll have no choice but to treat you as an enemy.”

Beidou sighs, walking over and patting his shoulder as if telling him relax.

“Give them a break, Kazuha. Can’t you see they’re injured? At least patch them up before you start your interrogations.”

You have half the mind to teleport but their movements are so fast, you’re unable fight back. Within the blink of an eye, your hands are bound and you’re seated on a stool as Beidou lifts your shirt to inspect the wound on your back.

Her eyes widen, seeing the messy cloth stained with golden blood. Her hands pull back so fast it’s as if she was burned. Her ruby red eyes snap to look up at the back of your head.

“The creator…”

Kazuha studies you, his face blank but you can see the surprise in his eyes. Both of them take a step back, as they stare at you in silence.

Unexpectedly, it’s the calmest reaction you’ve witnessed so far.

“What brings the creator aboard my humble ship?” Beidou asks, forcing her voice to stay steady as if a big shot… no… the big shot of Teyvat isn’t bound to a chair on her ship.

You sigh. This is the exact reason you wanted to avoid being discovered.

“I wasn’t lying when I said my grandpa is on the lower deck.”

“The grandpa of the creator…”

“Well, adoptive grandpa… but you know, same thing.”

“You’re heading to Inazuma? What for?”

“…vacation.”

Beidou’s hands move back to you this time, asking permission before touching you. You nod your head allowing her to untie you. She then carefully lifts your shirt and removes the wraps to assess the extent of damage. As you twist your head to look at it, you realize it looks a lot less worse than before.

“Who was stupid enough to attack the creator…” Beidou asks but Kazuha nudges her.

“We tied them up… and threatened them,” he says quietly. As if realizing the severity of their actions, Beidou flinches.

“We greatly apologize, your grace. I hope you can understand us. We were just taking precautions to ensure the members of the ship are safe.”

You nod your head, not thinking anything of it. Beidou helps you patch it up and you wince, feeling the stinging pain.

“I will accept your apology… as long as neither of you speak a word of me being here. Don’t tell anyone what you saw or heard. Act as if you’ve never met me.”

You can sense their confusion. They want to ask you why but they stay silent, only nodding at your request. After Beidou patches you up, you immediately leave to the lower deck of the Crux.

The two of them bow their heads down respectfully, waiting until you are completely out of earshot before speaking.

“You’re gonna keep the creator’s secret, right Beidou?”

“…we’ll see how much mora someone offers me for it.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *.☽ .* : ✧.───

The pupils of Zhongli’s eyes shake as he stares at the spot you had just disappeared from.

When Zhongli had arrived at Wangshu Inn, he immediately recognized the scent he found back at the house he discovered. Like a hound, he followed the scent to the top of the inn and when he saw you… his whole world froze.

Unlike when he first met you back at the stall, he knows exactly who you are. This time, he was able to truly take you in.

Staring at the full glory of the creator, illuminated by the warm glow of candles, Zhongli thought that you were more than he could have ever imagined. For the first time in his thousands of years of life, he was completely awestruck.

He forced himself to steady his voice, quietly clearing his throat before speaking. But just as he called out to you, just before he was able to feel you, you vanished.

Zhongli feels as if the coldest of waters was suddenly poured all over him. His breath hitches and the emptiness of his hand physically pains him.

You disappeared. No… you ran away. From him.

It wasn’t obvious before, but Zhongli is sure of it now. You are running away from him.

Your stall that had been opened for months closed just after you had met him, and now. The moment you heard his voice and the second he almost touched you, you left.

The former Geo Archon feels his heart clench up. He slowly turns to Xiao. The intensity of Zhongli’s stare sends a shiver down the Yaksha’s spine.

“You… why was the creator here? When did they arrive? How come you didn’t tell anyone?”

“I-I’m not sure… From what I can remember, I was just thinking of them and suddenly, they appeared. They were only here for less than five minutes.”

The creator appeared for Xiao when he thought of them… but disappeared when Zhongli came.

The ground rumbles beneath them and the walls of the inn begins to shake. The two can hear the guests of the inn start to panic.

“Earthquake!” someone shouts.

Zhongli takes a deep breath and suddenly the rumbling stops. Still, the words keep circling in Zhongli’s head.

The creator appeared for Xiao.

Why? he thinks. There’s not a single second since he’s been aware of your descension where Zhongli is not thinking of you. For longer than Xiao had even been alive, Zhongli prided himself on being the most loyal acolyte of yours. With how much of his being that Zhongli devotes solely to you… why would you appear for Xiao and not him?

Are you unsatisfied with him? Was there something he did?

Just tell him, he thinks. Instead of running away and leaving him in the agony of uncertainty, just tell him what he did.

Does he need to prove himself to you?

Zhongli is more than willing to prove himself. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to repent and prove himself worthy if the reward is your presence. He’s spent thousands of years devoting himself to you and he’ll worship you til the day he dies.

So now that you’ve finally descended, he doesn’t care if he has to chase you around all of Teyvat. Whether it’s stealing his gnosis back from the Tsaritsa and becoming Morax once more or defeating all the archons of the other nations to prove himself worthy, nothing will deter Zhongli from gaining your acceptance.

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[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Well, well, well...

I know I said I was gonna get back on track but I failed an exam and my grandpa's sick again so I'm really trying my best here :') I think I have ideas for two chapters after this one ? I'll try to write them faster than one month each lol :'D

I really want to get over Cross's time, I love this boy but I don't have much to say about his time sadly :')

Also everyone go check out @ancha-aus 's drabble because it is amazing !!! It takes place later in the story so I will link it again when we get there but still !! Go read !!

I swear I spend more time looking at dictionaries than actually writing the chapters, why did I gave them all dead languages

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The first night in Cross's house had been fairly calm, Horror and him had managed to make a bed for everyone, though Nightmare preferred sleeping on the bench on the kitchen side of the house, Cross couldn't blame him honestly, straw wasn't what someone would call a fancy beding, compared to it anything would be better, even a bench. Killer was very happy with the straws and kept making little braids with it, five in total, and he gave one to everyone afterward. Horror was fine too, Cross never heard the viking complain about anything anyway, so either he was really fine with it or he was just very polite. Dust was strangely excited, Cross didn't think it was possible to be excited about straw beds after having used the amazing couch in his house but here he was, mumbling things to himself as he sat on the bed.

It luckily hadn't rained, so the humidity didn't come in and they were able to keep a certain warmth inside of the small house. Usually peasant houses shared the space with the cattle and the warmth of the animals would heat up the house, but Cross was a knight, he didn't have animals, so he had to rely on fire, but as he didn't have infinite wood he would most of the time keep it to cook and use this heat to warm himself up.

Cross had been the first to wake up and had rapidly been followed by Horror. He saluted him with a smile.

- Dieus vos doinst boinjor.

- Kveðja, ér sofa vel ? Horror answered.

"Vel" meant "well", that Cross was sure, and he remembered Horror using "sofa" to say "sleep", with these two words he guessed he must have either asked if Cross slept well or informed him that he slept well. Cross nodded, both answering the question if it was aimed at him and showing satisfaction if it wasn't.

- Volez avoc moy aler a jart ? Cross asked if Horror wanted to go to the garden with him, pointing at the door.

He needed to pick some vegetables for dinner and the others were still asleep, so he might as well grab them now and not bother his friends later. Horror looked at the door, frowning slightly.

- Ek þurfa vitja úti ? He asked, confused.

Cross was confused too, what did Horror understand ? He looked around for a second before grabbing a basket and showing it to Horror, then going to the door and signing for him to come along as he went outside and around the house towards the small garden. Horror followed, curious, and watched as Cross pointed at the different plants than at the basket. Did Cross want him to pick those plants and put them in the basket ? He slowly picked a carrot and looked at Cross as he put it down, seeing him nod, he smiled, and both of them started picking the vegetables, teaching each other their names. It was nice, and when they went back inside, everybody was up.

Cross put the basket on the table, letting Dust inspect it, he seemed rather curious about the vegetables, surely comparing them to those he had at home. He glanced at his countertop, he had just enough bread for today and maybe tomorrow morning, he would need to go in town tomorrow in the afternoon and buy some more. He could bake some, sure, but it was time consuming so he preferred buying already prepared ones. He also checked his water supply, he needed to go to the well.

- Eo dei a puit aler. Dust, volez moy sivir ? Cross gathered all his courage, asking Dust to follow him.

Dust looked up at him, thinking, his sockets always squinted a bit when he was thinking, and he ended up looking at Nightmare who was staring at the bench, well, not the bench, but the little straw braid Killer made him and that he had put on the bench for the night.

- Nightmare ? What d-

Nightmare flinched and sharply turned to look at him.

- Oop, sorry, didn't mean to startle you, Dust apologized, what does "sivir" mean ?

Nightmare hesitated, his gaze diverting for a second, before he talked, for the first time since the forest, though his voice was low, not as self assured as when he would talk in Dust's time.

- S.. suivre.. ? He stuttered.

Everybody caught that, but nobody commented.

- Suivre ? Dust repeated, like uhh... I know this word, I've seen it on social media... oh ! Follow ! Yeah ! He turned to Cross, smiling, yeah I'll follow you ! I'll uhh.. sivir vos.. ?

Cross smiled, feeling a rush of warmth in his chest, he just invited Dust to the well, he did that, oh god. He quickly nodded and grabbed two empty jars before heading to the door that Dust opened for him.

- Nos anteruns viste !

They will be back soon, he said as he went out with the hoodied skeleton, leaving the three others together.

- So... what's a "puit" ? Dust asked as they walked.

- Por panre l'aigue, li n'en estat gueres à maise.

He explained as simply as he could, telling him it's to take water as he didn't have any at home. Dust just frowned.

- Huh-huh. Well you know what ? "Aigue" sounds like "agua" in Spanish and since you've got jars I'm gonna say it's for water. That or wine. I don't know what people usually drink in the Middle Ages.

He finally answered. Did he understand ? Cross had no doubt he did, Dust was smart, he always figured out stuff.

- Now if we're going to grab some water I guess it's either a river or a well ?

Cross liked hearing Dust talk, he had such a sweet voice, so confident and yet always sounding unsure at the end of his sentences, as if he was expecting to be wrong about every supposition he made when really he was probably the most smart of them all.

- ... Did I say something stupid ? Dust frowned, sounding a bit nervous.

Why would he feel nervous ? Cross didn't see any reason to feel- oh god he had been staring. He quickly shook his head and looked forward, a purple blush on his cheekbones.

- P-pardon. He apologized.

- Okay.. ?

The walk to the well was... awkward, Cross didn't dare look at him, he didn't want to stare again, at least with his arms holding the jars he wasn't tempted to grab Dust's hand.

Once they arrived Dust looked at the stone well with wonder. Was it the first time he saw a well ? He did have water directly in his house, so maybe wells weren't a thing anymore in the future ?

Cross put the jars down, grabbing the bucket attached to the log above the well to make it fall in until it hit the water and slowly filled itself. Dust was watching carefully, bent over the hole, his eyelights were almost sparkling with curiosity and Cross could see the water reflecting on his bones... he would give anything to be allowed to hold him close and-

- It's full, Dust announced, straightening.

- O-oh uh, oil.. ! Cross was brutally shaken out of his thoughts.

The bucket was full, so Cross pulled on the lever until it came back all the way up to grab it and pour the water in the first jar, when he straightened up Dust was looking at him. He made a grabby motion towards the bucket.

- Can I try ? He asked, badly masking his excitement.

Cross couldn't help but blush as he handed him the bucket and watched as he put it back in the well to wait patiently for it to fill. He didn't think such a simple activity would interest Dust so much, and yet here he was, happily filling the jars with water. There was something childish and yet so attractive to it, Cross wanted to protect that, he wanted to protect that amazement for everything that surrounded him.

- Estrez tanz jolif... Cross said without thinking.

He instantly blushed, he really didn't mean to call Dust pretty. Well, Dust was pretty, but he didn't mean to say it to his face !

- Huh ? Dust answered, not having heard as he was putting the bucket back on the edge of the well.

- E-Eo diseie nos devrïens antrer !

He corrected, saying they needed to go back home as he grabbed the two full jars.

- Oh, we're going ? Don't you want me to hold one ? They look heavy, Dust asked him, going to grab a jar but Cross stopped him.

- Eo puys porter, mercit ! He thanked, telling him he could hold them.

- If you say so, Dust didn't insist.

Cross smiled at him, and lead the way back home with two full jars and a soul racing like never before.

He really needed to get his thoughts under control.

[gamergirl-niffler]

Hi, I'm coming from doumadono's discord. Since your requests are open, I decided to drop one - taking care of the mini dragon!Neuvilette and the mini dragon!Zhongli ! Just boys in tiny dragon forms (you can fit them in hands) - sfw

That's such a cute idea! I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE MY TAKE ON THIS AMAZING IDEA!

I love those two dragon grandpas ^^

Wish you all nice reading! @shonen-brainrot

Wonderful dividers and cover made by one and only! @doumadono

Neuvillette

💧 You came to Monsieur Neuvillette to drop off some documents, but instead of encountering  your beloved Iudex himself, all you can see is a dragon, looking right at you!

💧 It's small enough to fit into your palms. He is little, blue, slightly round with a long neck, long tail, tiny legs and fins attached to his sides.

💧 Eh? Eh? Eh?! Eeeeeh?! Eh...?! You.exe stopped working.

💧 You quickly realize that it's not one else but Neuvillette himself! Oh dear Archon! What should you do!?

💧 You walk up to the desk and scoop the dragon up into your hands. "Oh dear Archon. Neuvillette! What happened?!”

💧 The dragon looks up at you, blinks and purrs happily, clapping his fins.

💧 At least he recognized you. That's a good thing.  For this, he gets a kiss on the head which makes him look even more pleased.

💧 But suddenly, he looks sad, and you can see a drizzle right outside the window. 

💧 "Oh! No, no, no! Don't be sad love, I'll take care of you," you assure and kiss his head gently. "How about we go for a walk, huh?”

💧 At this, the dragon looks at you and nods his head.

💧 So that's what you do. You take Neuvillette for a walk, and he looks happy.

💧 You walk out of his office and head down the streets until you reach the center with the big fountain. Suddenly, Neuvillette lets out a soft squeak, making you stop.

💧 He immediately uses his head to point at the fountain, and you understand him, so you walk to it and place him in the water.

💧 Neuvillette seems happy but a little disappointed that the fountain is quite shallow.

💧 That's when you get the idea! You grab the dragon and go back inside. 

💧 Neuvillette is watching curiously as you are running around your little flat, collecting snacks and making food before putting it into a basket. You are doing all of this while he is chilling in a sink full of water.

💧 And just like that, the two of you soon leave the bustling city.

💧 You took Neuvillette to his favorite place for a walk, but instead of taking a walk, you find the right place to set a picnic.

💧 While you are enjoying warm tea, the dragon is happily swimming around in the deep waters of Fontain. Of course he isn't swimming too far away to worry you - he knows you are already worried because of the whole ordeal.

💧 When he is done with swimming, he joins you on the blanket where you feed him some soup and some snacks.

💧 Neuvillette enjoys this day. It may be weird, though. He is tiny and in a dragon form, but the amount of care you give him makes him feel loved. 

💧 When the evening comes, you collect everything and then pick up Neuvillette. "Time to go home," you say and gently tap him on the head with your finger.

💧 Neuvillette seems sleepy, so before you get home, the little dragon is sleeping, curled into a ball in your palm.

💧 He is too adorable to wake up, so you leave stuff in the kitchen and go to your bedroom. 

💧 You lay down with a dragon still in your palm. "I will take care of you as long as I need to. Don't worry."

💧 At this Neuvillette only mutters in his sleep, nuzzling the palm more.

Zhongli

🟡 At first, you are sure that you woke up in an empty bed, but as soon as you remove the duvet, you realize it isn’t fully true. 

🟡 Zhongli is still in bed with you but... He is in his dragon form, just on a smaller scale. His body is long, but you can easily fit him in the palm of your hand. 

🟡 You sit up and pick the dragon up to look at him - he even has cute horns. When you touch them, he wakes up and looks at you.

🟡 "That's a new look for you, love. Quite interesting," you joked, scratching him under his chin. He purrs at this and nuzzles your hand.

🟡 He doesn't seem scared, so he must be aware of what is happening. At least it means you don't need to freak out.

🟡 Both of you didn't have much planned for today, just some shopping for dinner. You don't want the plans to be ruined, so you get up to get ready.

🟡 You walk through Liyue with a dragon happily hanging out in your hood while you are shopping.

🟡 While you are buying stuff for dinner, your hood suddenly becomes lighter, and all you can see was Zhongli running away somewhere.

🟡 You panic a little and leave your basket with a vendor to follow him quickly.

🟡 He doesn't trot away too far, just to some antiques seller. Zhongli quickly finds a pretty stone he really wants. Dragon basically wraps itself around it.

🟡 "Guess I have no choice,” you sigh and ask about the stone. All you hear in replay is a really high price. You can afford it, but dear Archon, that's a big number!

🟡 Zhongli looks up at you with his big eyes, and you break pretty easily. So you pay and pick the dragon up so he can't find anything more expensive. "So? You like shiny stuff? Here," you said, giving him one Mora.

🟡 He is more than happy with this little gift. Thankfully, he stays good for the rest of the shopping. 

🟡 Once back home, Zhongli is able to fully enjoy his gifts. He is thankful for your understanding and love you give him despite what's happening.

🟡 While you cook his favorite meal, he is sitting right next to you and even handing you some ingredients you need to add.

🟡 When the bamboo shoot soup is ready, you witness the cutest thing ever - a cute dragon eating from his bowl eagerly, enjoying the taste. 

🟡 In the evening, you take him for the walk, and the two of you visit his favorite cafe. The sight of a dragon, wrapped around a teacup, drinking warm tea and enjoying stories is one of a kind. 

🟡 You come back home with Zhongli curled into a ball in your hood, sleeping peacefully. To make it more comfortable for him, you put him onto his pillow and place his treasures next to him. 

🟡 After that, you get yourself ready to bed, and soon join him to finally end the crazy day.

[cherryxbooo]

Lewis fic. Its his birthday y/n and him have an age gap. Not a crazy one but she teases him about his age.

My old man

Summary: It's Lewis's birthday, and you never fail to make him feel old on his special day.

Note: First of all, I want to thank all of you for showing your love for my first-ever story on here. It means a lot!!! Also, I'm trying my best to write new stories based on your requests, but I'm currently in my exam period, so things might go slower. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this short fic!

Reader x Lewis Hamilton

Mention of age gap (10 years)

Genre: fluff

It's currently 4 o'clock in the morning and Lewis is sound asleep next to me in bed. Why am I up so early already? Well it's my favourite human's birthday today and I want to make this day special for him. Knowing that Lewis always wakes up at around 6 o'clock for his early morning workouts made me get up early to decorate the house and get his favourites for his birthday.

I bought all the decorations last night and did a pretty good job at hiding it from Lewis. Starting by blowing up all the balloons and hanging them around the place followed by the rest of the decoration. If there is one thing that Lewis doesn't like, it's seeing his age on display. So that's exaclty what I did. I bought the numbers 39 in a big form and hung them on the most noticable place in the house to tease him even more.

After I was done with decorating the place I went out and went to the store to buy the last few things that were needed, thank God 24/7 hour stores are a thing otherwise I would've been fucked. While strolling along the aisles I can't help but find the perfect gift for Lewis. It was a dog shirt with the words 'Grandpa's favourite boy' displayed on it, promising myself to get Roscoe to wear it later. After getting the last things I went back home knowing that it was almost time for Lewis to wake up.

Putting everything on the counter i start to prepare his birthday breakfast with all his favourites in it. I still had plenty of time since I already wrapped his gifts yesterday, so in the meantime while I was making his breakfast I quickly took the dog shirt out for Roscoe to wear. He looked so adorable but I couldn't help but laugh at the shirt. I don't think Lewis would even be surprised since I've been teasing him about his age non stop.

While putting the last things on the table I felt two strong hands wrap around my waist. "Babe you went all out this year"

Lewis exclaimed. "Well it's my favourite old man's birthday I had to make it special." I added. Lewis groans "Love are you seriously still making fun of me?" I gasped but it was quickly followed by my laugh. "I would never!"

"I just wanted to celebrate you getting closer to the forties" Lewis groans again. "Babe seriously stop that I'm still in my thirties and that's what matters and also you're just 10 years younger then me your time will come as well"

"Jeez Lewis you're making it sound as if I'm about to die or something but for now I'm happily enjoying my twenties" I say pecking his lips and leading him to the breakfast table.

"Babe there was no need to put those numbers up there" Lewis exclaimes. "Well you're an old man now I had to remind you before you forget" I say with a laugh.

Lewis groans even more. "You're never letting it go are you?" "Ofcourse not old man!". "But babe on a serious note you didn't have to do all this" He said coming over to me and kissing me passionately. "But i wanted to since you deserve the world Lew" I tell him with a peck to his lips.

"Thanks beautifull I love you!" He adds "And I love you too My old man. Soon the kiss turned into a makeout session when Lewis breaks the kiss and adds "Well after all this I would love for this birthday gift to be taken to the bedroom"

Smirking I jump on to him with both my legs secured around his waist. But before we could go any further Roscoe pops up and starts barking for our attention. Lewis puts me down and both of our attention is on Roscoe.

"Hey old guy, did you want to wish your dad a happy birthday as well?" Lewis says while scratching behind Roscoe's ears. But then Lewis freezes noticing the shirt I put on Roscoe earlier. He turns to me, but I was already out of sight, running for my life.

"Y/N ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?"

yourusername posted on Instagram!

Liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and others

yourusername Happy birthday to my old man! You light up my world with your love and laughter, and I'm so lucky to have you by my side. Today, we celebrate not only the day you were born but also all the achievements you created in your life. You bring so much joy and happiness into my life, and I can't wait to create more amazing memories together! Thank you for being the most loving and caring person in my life. Happy birthday my love! 🤍🎈🎉

View all comments

lewishamilton Thank you my love! I love you so much 💕 Also I will ignore any old man related comments.

yourusername ☹️

georgerussell63 Happy birthday old man!

lewishamiltonlover3 Happy birthday bae!

roscoeloveslewlew Y/n will never let him live 😂

landonorris Yeah @yourusername show the old man some respect!

lewishamilton 🙄

lewisamgfan Lando and George being bullies is so them core 🤣

The end

[cloversnstrawberries]

oc intro post ! ! young!serial killer grandpa & time traveler reader

masterlist | requests open !

warnings; Mentions of violence, murder, serial killings, Everett's superiority/god complex, misanthropy (hatred of the human race), manipulation, possessive behavior, mental instability, and there might be more that i forgot :( if i missed a major one, please let me know and i'll add it !!!

additional notes; i read "garden of the dead flowers" a while back (in which i totally did the daily pass thing. yeah. totally!), and i thought it had a lot of potential for a platonic yan,, i didn't like the ending much for other reasons, but i'm fixing it here. with my oc. as god intended, of course. of course, if you're familiar with the webcomic at all, this isn't really that similar; except for the very core basis ^^ this is the option that won the second poll :D

! ! introduction blurb & moodboard below the cut ! !

Everett has met a lot of people before, that's just how it is, being the son of a wealthy businessman and a socialite. He's met a lot of strange people as well, eccentric people that makes Everett need a double-take.

But none quite so strange as you, who simply... showed up in the back garden one day. You were disoriented, wearing odd clothes as you patted around your pockets for... something. A handkerchief, maybe?

Either way, you'd be an easy kill. He'd never seen you around before, perhaps a runaway then. Nobody would miss you, in that case. And If they did, then they'd have a difficult time tracing you all the way to Everett's backyard.

But something made that train of thought stop before it even fully departed. Something about you made him hesitate, and subsequently approach and offer you help. To pull you up, dazed as you were, and help you into the sitting room.

You continued to be quite out of it, and when he returned, tea in hand-- you took it without question. You hadn't said a word, not to him or otherwise. All you did was look around, face pinched like you trying to figure something out.

By the end of it, Everett isn't quite sure what made him take such a liking to you. When you opened up, you tripped over your words-- you sounded funny, regardless of that. Saying words and phrases he's never heard, but he didn't pay much mind to that.

Regardless of your little verbal stumbles, you ended up telling him that you 'don't know how you got here', which he assumed you meant the town in general, or maybe just his backyard specifically.

The first conversation he genuinely held with you, you would always give these nonsensical answers that provided no more knowledge than before. When he asked "Where are you from?" You'd respond with "Not here.", or how you got here-- you'd always pause, and try to think it over before finally settling on "...I don't know."

Amnestic, maybe? That's what he could make of it, anyways. Other than your dazed behavior, you showed no real signs of a concussion. He set you up in a guest room-- and he doesn't know what makes him do it. Even as you wake up the next morning, no longer so confused--

Usually, he wouldn't really like people like you. Those who treat him so casually, those who treat everybody like that; like they were everybody's pal. It irked Everett to no end before,

So why is it different when you do it? With your strange words, strange habits, and even stranger way of dress-- what's got him so interested in you?

What sets you apart of his usual fare--? He could go and argue that he helped you recover so he could add you to his roster of victims, because he's not one for kicking someone when their down...

But he couldn't even fool himself with that lie. Really, he doesn't know why or how you managed to worm your way into his good graces so quickly-- enough where he let you stay in his home for the time being.

He could be harboring a runaway, either from a family or maybe even if the law. That could put him in risk, if cops come looking for you-- find his home, found evidence of what he does in and around it.

Again, it's just something about you... It makes it impossible to even think of driving a knife straight through your heart. What would be easy for him with everyone else, was like fighting an uphill battle when it came to you.

Either way, he's not letting you go now. Not after week of getting to know you-- after getting you new clothes to help fit in, getting his parents to make the school take you as a student. Just so you didn't have to sit and rot in that big house all day, of course.

He won't let you outside the grounds. Maybe because he doesn't want his new friend taken, the only person that's been entirely immune to his constant need to hurt others-- either by yourself, or anyone who's looking for you.

But he doesn't tell you that. He says he just wants to make sure you're healthy and not about to keel over from an untreated brain injury and whatnot.

Everett has grown quite fond of you, even if you're a little strange.

Maybe it's because you're so strange, that you're exempt from his usually unforgiving drive to prey on others, and rip them limb from limb like they were bugs under a microscope.

[queenimmadolla]

I imagine eddie would have a little family time kid friendly valentines with the reader on one day and an adults only, ship the kids off somewhere valentines another day

What gifts or things do you think would happen on that day

Id imagine reader would wake up eddie by dressing the kids up as cherubs and attacking him with rubber sucker arrows to shoot at him

🦊

Family friendly Valentine’s Day is in the morning, After Hours (bow chicka bow wow) Valentine’s Day is from the evening and all through the night 😏 while the kids are sleeping over with grandpa Wayne and Maude.

I like the way you think and that’s very cute, reader buying the kids pairs of wings to wear and those annoying ass toy Cupid bow and arrows and then releases them into the bedroom to assault Eddie. It makes for a really good home movie and pictures for the family album.

Eddie OF COURSE was prepared and had to hide all of the gifts he got in the van because not a single person in the house, including reader, can be trusted not to go snooping. Eddie gets the girls and Wayne (his little Ferdinand 🥺) flowers, called into a floral shop weeks in advance to place the order and while reader absolutely loves her roses, seeing penny and wayne’s reaction to getting them is like the best thing in the world. They get all shy and happy about having received something so special, and their bouqets are significantly smaller than reader’s but it doesn’t matter; Wayne’s got his nose in his daisies, sniffing away for the rest of the day, and Penny lets reader help make hers into a flower crown, so she can wear it the entire day. They also gorge themselves on chocolate and candy, which reader isn’t happy about but Eddie couldn’t not buy some for them! Besides, the inevitable sugar high will be big Wayne’s problem.

Penny and Wayne will have made homemade Valentine’s cards that say something along the lines of “congraz” (Wayne, still says ‘happy birthday’ for most holiday greetings and gets confused with them all so it’s a congratulations from him this time). And Penny’s are just amusing (‘Happy Valentine’s Day, daddy! I gots no monies so this is what you get, i love you ps get me flowers and member i dont like white choclet’ and ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, mommy! You are my valentine now, not daddys but you can kiss daddy on the lips, but i saw hims eat some onions one time and they are stinky good luck”)

BUT, Eddie has plans for him and Reader, so the kids are pawned off to Wayne and Maude, reader is whisked away to a romantic dinner and then brought home for some very much needed alone time. They share a couple of joints on the porch, he gives her a foot massage because her feet ache a little from the heels she wore to dinner, they talk about their life; where they are in it, what they thought they’d be doing by then and how happy they are regardless, then they move things into the bedroom. Put those cuffs, Eddie now has to hide, to good use. Spend the rest of the night fucking like rabbits well into early morning, nearly depleting the box of condoms in the night stand. In between rounds, Eddie and reader finish off the leftovers from their dinner in bed when the munchies kick in, sharing a bottle of water, lounging around naked, talking about everything under the sun—weed induced peculiar thoughts, of course—and enjoying each other’s company. It’s reminiscent of the early days of their relationship, before the jobs, before the kids, before any of the responsibilities, when they were just teenagers.

Come morning light, you’ll have to go get your kids and slip back into the roles of mom and dad, which the two of you are more than happy to do, but it’s also nice to play a little pretend for the night.

Happy belated Valentine’s Day! 🩷

(P.s. part of the Pennyverse for any new readers ♡)

[coal15]

bucktommy headcanons:

Buck may be an awesome cook, but he's terrible at cakes and fancy/pretty desserts. Tommy is awesome at fancy desserts, and refers to his talent for decorating cakes as "his gayest trait" (aside from dating men.)

Buck is used to being the Big Spoon in relationships, but it turns out when the person he's dating actually is bigger than him, he loves being the Little Spoon.

Tommy's internal alarm clock almost always wakes him up at least an hour before Buck, so when they have overlapping days off he tiptoes to the kitchen and makes cinnamon rolls or breakfast muffins or something as quietly as possible. The first time Buck wakes up to the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls he loses his damn mind.

several more under the cut

They love going to couples trivia nights at bars where they aren't regulars and crushing the other couples. On the few occasions they don't make it to the top three Buck cheers himself up by making dinner the next night. Losing doesn't upset Tommy nearly as much, but he still bakes cheer-up cupcakes for Buck.

Buck forgets where he put the keys like five seconds after he sets them down somewhere. Even when he picks a dedicated spot (hook next to the door, small bowl on the counter, bedside table) it only works for a few weeks and then he's right back to tossing wherever. Tommy spends the first year of their relationship nagging him about it before finally giving up.

One day while Buck is at work Tommy has a fit of inspiration and decides to reorganize the whole kitchen in a way that makes more sense. Buck comes home already hangry and tired, and he's super pissed about not being consulted beforehand. It's their first really big 'spirals-out-of-control-eventually-veers-off-topic-what-were-we-originally-fighting-about' fight.

They agree on two pets. Dogs. A week after they adopt the puppies Buck finds a pair of kittens abandoned on the side of the road and falls in love. So now they have two dogs and two kittens.

Years ago an army buddy of Tommy's introduced him to opera and he shocked himself by falling in love with it, so he drags Buck kicking and screaming to see a live performance of The Marriage of Figaro (a comedy opera by Mozart) and by the end of the first act Buck is hooked. Tickets aren't cheap but they try to go see least one opera per year.

The only truly loving family influence Tommy had as a child was his great grandfather. Tommy was only twelve when he died, but he swore he'd name his kids after him someday. He wasn't thinking clearly through the grief. His grandfather's name was Rufus Faggert Gord the third. But Tommy adored grandpa Rufus so much he can't stand to break the promise, so he and Buck agree that two of their future childrens' middle names will be Rufus or Gord (faggert is an automatic no for oh so many reasons)

Their three favorite couple activities are the aforementioned trivia nights, playing in the kitchen, and fishing somewhere quiet away from the city.

[damthosefandoms]

This old house

(ao3 link) (based on this post)

Summary:

The house will always be theirs, and nobody can take it away from them.

———

There was something so incredibly enticing about the attic pull cord. 

Maybe it was the proximity to Darry’s bedroom door; how every morning when he was younger, he’d get up and stand on the step-up to his room, and try to jump clear across the upstairs hallway, like the floor was made of lava, to the step-up to his parents’ room to wake them up. How he’d always manage to narrowly avoid that pull-cord smacking him in the face as he did so.

He still remembers his mother nagging him about it, about jumping around the tiny landing when it would be so easy to misstep and fall down the steep wooden staircase to his inevitable doom. He remembers his dad laughing and telling Mama to relax, because Dad did the same thing when he was a kid, growing up in Darry’s same bedroom, back when Grandpa Pat sacrificed a decade’s worth of paychecks to give each of his three boys their own bedroom, and built that addition onto the side of the house himself in between shifts at the factory and fighting in the first world war. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was home, and Grandpa made sure of that.

Grandpa used to tease Darry when he was real little, back before he passed; he’d hold him up and show him his best handiwork, which in hindsight was just an amateur addition to the side of an old two-story cottage, and Darry would wiggle around in his arms and try to grab at whatever he could, including that stupid pull cord. He’d laugh and untangle it from Darry’s pudgy baby hands and put him down for a nap, right there in that room that never belonged to anybody except Darrel Curtis.

Darry thinks about Grandpa Pat every time he sees it, these days. He can’t help himself when he goes up there, always reaching out to hit it, like he’s a middle school boy trying to show off and touch the top of a doorway in the hall—it’s instinct. He’s still there, in that bedroom—a room built by his grandfather, and now that he works in construction, Darry thinks about that a lot. About how his grandfather put his whole heart and soul into making this place a home, something that their family could use for generations, and how he’s unintentionally letting it go.

If you pulled the cord, a drop-down ladder would take you up into the attic, and it would take up the entire upstairs landing when it was down. You could barely maneuver around it, and that wasn’t Grandpa Pat’s fault, but when Darry was seven, he thought his Grandpa built the whole house (he didn’t—just the two side bedrooms, upstairs and down) and would blame him for everything that he felt like complaining about. Darry could grab the cord if he jumped, but his mother used to nag him about trying, saying “quit it, baby, I don’t want you takin’ a tumble!” as he’d stand up on his tip-toes at the edge of the staircase trying to reach it.

But one day, Mama’s distracted, stuck between trying to convince her most picky eater that carrots aren’t going to kill him and trying to get baby Pony to take medicine for his fever. This is his chance—Darry’s been eating his greens and finally, finally he is tall enough to pull down the attic ladder. He just wants to see what’s up there, maybe find out where that roof leak is that Dad mentioned the other night, and maybe he’s a little stir-crazy because this is the era of barefoot kids playing baseball in sandlots, but it’s a summer afternoon in 1954 and it’s raining cats and dogs out there in east Tulsa, so he can’t go play outside.

His five-year-old neighbor Keith is sitting on the step-up to Darry’s bedroom door, laughing, and his laugh only gets more infectious when the attic door opens and the ladder drops down. Darry dives out of the way, crashing into Keith as they fall back through the door onto Darry’s bedroom floor. Mama yells something up from downstairs, but Darry ignores her, telling Keith to grab the bucket so he can get it up there so Dad doesn’t have to worry about it later. 

Fast forward and Darry’s twenty years old, reaching for that same pull cord so he can put away the holiday decorations. They don’t have to worry about leaks anymore, because Darry’s got a new job and has learned how to fix the roof, but that ladder still drops down like it has it out for him, and this time Two-Bit holds it steady for him. This time, Mama isn’t there to warn him to be careful.

---

The thing about living in what used to be a glorified summer cottage is that it’s nice, almost, in the summer. They don’t have one of those fancy central air conditioning units, but with all the windows and the front and back door open, a nice breeze will blow through every so often.

Darry remembers the summer of ‘57, when he was ten years old, and he was determined to send a paper airplane from the front door all the way out the back. Two-Bit told him it wasn’t possible, not with how their house was laid out (“Maybe if it was a straight shot, but there’s a wall in the way, Dar, it just ain’t gonna work,”) but Darry’s got two little brothers dead-set on helping prove him right.

Keith’s being going through a bit of a know-it-all phase lately, hence why they’ve started calling him Two-Bit—something about getting a little sister and “becoming the man of the house” as he puts it seems to have given him the idea he’s got to be the boss of everybody else, too. But Darry doesn’t care that the kid’s dad left right before Christmas right after his mom found out she was pregnant or that his best friend is no longer an only child or has to be involved in everything. Right now, all that matters is that he’s trying to steal Darry’s role as the coolest big kid in the neighborhood. 

Darry’s the oldest. He’s the smartest and the best at football and he’s been organizing their Fourth of July baseball games (because Darry might think football is better but the Fourth of July is a baseball holiday) for three years now, since enough big kids like them moved in to play. Two-Bit Mathews will run their little corner of the East Side over his dead body. 

He tells Sodapop and Ponyboy very carefully when they’ll need to turn on their little fans to make this work. He can only pray that his brothers are better listeners than Two-Bit’s five-year-old neighbor. The Cade kid doesn’t even talk! Pony can count to twenty and he hasn’t even seen his fourth birthday yet. Soda will make anything happen for a candy bar. Darry’s got the best throwing arm this side of the tracks; he’s got this in the bag.

Darry’s paper airplane takes a nosedive as soon as he throws it.

Ah, well. Bad luck. He’ll get his best buddy back at some point.

---

The downside to being the oldest in the neighborhood is that Darry gets stuck with the most boring jobs. At least mowing lawns makes money; walking his little brother to his friend’s house? Are you kidding? But Mama saw one too many missing kids’ faces posted on the milk cartons and now, in the fall of 1959, Darry’s stuck walking Sodapop down to his friend Steve’s house. 

It’s a longer walk there than to any of their other friends’ houses, which isn’t saying much because Two-Bit lives basically across the street and Johnny’s two houses down from him. Steve’s the only one whose house isn’t on a road directly facing the lot, though; it’s in the next block over and Darry figures that’s why they hadn’t met him until Soda started school. Or maybe he’s one of those kids whose parents just don’t let him out for some reason. 

It wouldn’t shock him if that was the case, not with how Steve’s mom had died. Darry remembers the day his mom told him about it, just a few years earlier. He had been sitting on the counter drying the dishes as usual, just opposite the oven in their tiny kitchen so he wouldn’t be in the way while his mom pulled out a piping-hot lasagna. 

“It’s for Mr. Randle and his son,” she’d said to him, placing it on the stove to cool while Darry carefully dried Soda’s favorite plate. “Glory, that poor little boy. He’s about to lose his mother. No child should ever have to grow up without a mother.”

He wonders if Soda knows what happened, or if Darry had just been told because he was old enough to understand it. The boys hadn’t met until after Mrs. Randle’s cancer caught up to her, anyway. He wonders if Steve ever talks about it. If Darry’s mother died, he sure as hell wouldn’t. Just the thought of losing his mother sends chills running down his spine. 

They’d walked this same way that day, cutting through the lot to deliver the food. Darry had skipped around the bases on the overgrown baseball field, just like Soda is now.

“Why’s this here anyway?” He muses, and Darry glances over at him. 

“What?” 

“The baseball field. Nobody ‘round here even likes baseball. I mean, Dally’s the only kid in town who really goes for that kinda thing, but he spends his summers in New York with his mom and prolly sees games all the time, but I don’t know nobody else who plays, so why we got a field here an’ all?”

“Grandpa Pat told me he asked the city to put up a backstop,” Darry says, kicking an old Pepsi can across the sandlot. “He got everyone in the neighborhood to go for it, hoping it would keep Dad an’ his buddies outta trouble. The socs on the other side of town got a real nice little league park and they thought maybe us greasers would be good like them if we got one. ‘Cept the city’s supposed to take care of our field too, but they don’t, so we got nothin’ to do and get into trouble anyway. If you ask me, I say they shoulda made it a football field, but I figure that was more expensive.”

Soda picks up a stick off the ground and swings it like a sword. “Everything’s expensive.”

“Nah,” Darry mutters, “we just don’t got no money.”

---

Sodapop’s favorite thing about their old house is the load-bearing crayon mark trailing from his bedroom door upstairs, all the way down and around the corner to the living room fireplace. Bright red crayon, scrawled for what felt like miles to the toddler behind the crime—probably his greatest feat to date. He doesn’t remember doing it, but Darry’s always reminding him who the culprit was.

Nowadays Ponyboy’s the artist of the family, and Soda’s crayons have been long since passed down. But the other piece of homemade artwork in the house that Soda treasures isn’t one of his brother’s. Ponyboy might’ve gotten his love of movies from their dad, but he got his artistic talent from their mother. Back before Soda was born, Mama was so deeply convinced she would be having a girl that she decorated the nursery for it, complete with pink, flowery wallpaper and little horses along the baseboard. She’d gotten a horse stuffed animal instead of a teddy bear for her baby girl and when a boy was born instead, she put her foot down and stood by it. Called him her little cowboy. 

(His horsey is named Rascal, by the way. Pony’s the only one who knows he still sleeps with it stuffed under his pillow because every time he sees it, he zeroes in on the “surgery scars” from where his mother had sewed it back together after playing too rough as a kid and he’ll run a finger over the stitches and feel close to her again.)

Soda may not have been the best academically, and maybe he couldn’t even attempt to really start reading until he was seven, and maybe he’s not the best at math but��there are 167 little horses along the walls of his bedroom. He’s named and treasures every single one of them. Admittedly, the walls of what was originally Soda’s bedroom still are covered in the pink, flowery wallpaper. It proved too much of a project to take down.

---

Seeing Paul at the rumble, for Darry, was like seeing a teacher in public. A person that you’ve compartmentalized away into being in one specific part of your life and never expecting to see outside of that. Of course, that’s where the comparison ends, and now, with Ponyboy sleeping the day (and hopefully his fever) away and Soda working a triple shift at the DX because Darry’s gotta stay home with the kid, he’s left to his own devices. 

That’s never a good thing, because free time always ends with him either stressing about money or thinking about Paul, and that’s what brings him upstairs to his old room, where now he’s trying to patch the hole Paul punched into the wall when they were seventeen. 

He’d been angry with his parents that day. Darry doesn’t remember the exact reason why, but he’d watched as Paul slammed his fist into the wall, immediately cringing away afterwards in pain. It wasn’t the first time someone’s done that in their house, and it probably won’t be the last, but it left a hole there that Darry covered up with a football poster and forgot about until now.

Now, when he can still feel Paul’s fist on his jaw. Damn. He really should’ve iced it.

Darry thinks back to that night. He’d been lucky, really, that no one overheard the whole thing. Usually, the walls between their rooms upstairs were so thin that anyone sneaking in would wake Soda up immediately, but when he tore his ACL at the rodeo, their parents made Ponyboy switch rooms with him, and that kid—once he’s really asleep—doesn’t wake up for anything. Except the occasional nightmare, or if he’s sleepwalking, which is why his room was downstairs in the first place. But then Soda got thrown off that horse and his knee has been and probably always will be fucked because of that, and so he gets priority with the downstairs bedroom. Fair enough.

(Pony moved back into that room with Soda anyway after their parents died, so it’s not like it was ever that big a deal. Darry sure isn’t complaining about having the whole upstairs to himself these days. He gets some quiet.)

Paul would show up pretty often back in those days, and here’s the thing. Darry’s bedroom was upstairs, the one on the side of the house, and probably the second-nicest room behind Ponyboy’s, because they both had a window on three of their four walls. Sodapop used to bitch and moan for hours about how hot his room would get at night, having the tiniest room in the house, right above the kitchen. The only downside to Darry’s room upstairs was that Grandpa Pat apparently missed the class where they taught him how to build a level floor. 

(Seriously, it’s a good thing Darry’s got two closets built in, because even his bed will slide down the floor if you don’t push it up against the outer wall, and he could swear it’s getting worse over time.)

That and the fact you’d have to scale the side of the house to get in, which probably didn’t help Paul’s attitude when he was already pissed off. 

Well, he was probably more scared than anything, but Darry’s been sworn to secrecy on pretty much every conversation they ever had that involved Paul’s parents, so he’s not about to question it. He knows what goes on in that empty house on the West Side. 

He punched the wall and Darry had snuck downstairs to get some ice and the first aid kit, praying Soda wouldn’t wake up and hear him. 

They don’t really talk about it, but… but Darry gets it and he’s got a way he copes with getting angry, so he talks Paul into coming with him downtown to Tim’s once his hand is healed, to borrow his punching bag, the same one he was teaching Darry to box on.

There’s a million things Tim Shepard could say about Darry bringing a soc into the ring, but he keeps his mouth shut, ‘cause he knows better.

The thing is, Darry gets angry too, and he gets angry a lot. And it’s really hard to stop being angry once you start, sometimes. His parents have reminded him time and again about when he was eleven how he’d gotten so frustrated while playing with his brothers that he’d held Soda upside down from the monkey bars until he cried uncle, and then when Pony snitched and Mama came out to holler at him, he got so worked up yelling back that he dropped Soda.

And, you know, all those hours in the emergency room waiting for somebody to put a cast on his brother’s arm kinda knocked some sense into him. He doesn’t want anyone to get hurt just because he couldn’t control his anger ever again.

So boxing kind of helped. It gave Darry something to get his anger out on, and it was exercise, and maybe—just once or twice—he had made a few bucks off it. He never told his parents about it. They’d gotten real upset back when Soda was nine and spent a month practically begging Mama to sign him up for classes ‘cause he heard about it on tv and thought it was cool.

Dad used to tell them never to hit anything he could hurt. And Darry gets that, he does. But Grandpa Pat didn’t take the fall for nothing, and the money he’d posthumously made from it all paid off the house. Darry lost all interest in the sport after his parents died, and he pretends he doesn’t know that Soda still sneaks out to Tim’s backroom ring just like he used to, just to feel something. 

Darry doesn’t hit people or things anymore, or he tries not to. Whether it runs in the family or not, it has fully lost its appeal. 

Until a storm takes the chimney off the roof and Darry feels like punching another hole into the wall. It’s just one thing after another.

---

The post on the corner of the wall by the kitchen is cracking. Darry hasn’t cried in years—not in front of anybody, anyway, not like Soda does or Pony will under pressure, but.

But right now he feels like sitting on the floor and sobbing.

He knows how to fix it. He knows he should, and maybe there’s even enough in the budget this month to afford it. But at the end of the day it’s really just cosmetic, maybe, and the rest of the house has cracks in the walls and water damage and stains and that fucking crayon mark, and those—well they aren’t more pressing but he thinks about it a lot.

That’s not what’s killing him.

The crack in the wood, now big enough to really be noticeable, is about three feet above the ground, and it runs right through his dad’s name, written in Grandpa Pat’s shaky handwriting. 

Darrel 6/7/30 — 3 y/o — shoes on.

Not the lowest point on the Curtis Wall of Fame’s height chart, but one of Darry’s favorites. It’s dumb. But he crouches down and runs his hand over the letters anyway. He looks a little above, searching for the same date. 

In pencil: 

Patrick Jr. 6/7/30 — 10 years — new boots!

Mikey 6/7/30 —  8 years — barefoot.

Darry’s the only one of his siblings who met their grandfather, but even he’s never met his uncles. They both died in the second world war.

Mama’s on there, too. Only once, and the date reads their wedding anniversary—the day she moved in. The same date is by dad’s name up at the top. Neither of them had much more growing to do, at that point. 

Well, Dad didn’t. Mama was growing a baby at the time.

God, Darry misses them.

He looks down again.

Darrel Jr. 4/17/58 — 11y/o — shoes on.

Sodapop 8th birthday — no shoes.

Ponyboy Michael Curtis 11/14/1953 — 4mos. — sock feet.

Darry can’t help but grin at that one. It’s Pony’s first, measured younger than anybody else. Sock feet. It’s so Mama. Soda’s entries never seem to have shoes on, probably because he has never once willingly worn shoes (or socks) in his life. He hates the way it feels wearing them, and Darry swears he’s spent more of his life listening to Soda complain about his socks being itchy than he has playing football, and Darry has played a lot of football in his twenty years. Soda complains about shoes more than he complains about reading, and he used to cry over having to read six times a day. 

Their family are not the only people they keep track of. The height chart is like a welcome to the family. He knows Pony’s always looking at this wall, like he’s memorizing just how long their friends have been part of their lives.

Keith Mathews — 16mos. 10/20/50 — no shoes.

No surprise there. You know someone's family when even Darry doesn’t remember a time without them around.

John Cade — 4/13/1957 — 6 y/o — shoes on.

Steven Randle — almost 7 — 4/13/57. No shoes.

There’s a mark with Soda’s name next to it listed with the same date. It’d been the first time Johnny and Steve slept over. Soda hadn’t stopped talking about it for a month after. Darry wonders if Soda had realized why their parents hadn’t wanted either boy to go home.

There’s a few marks with names scratched out. Darry knows the one pretty high up that looks like it was carved out with a knife used to say Paul’s name. He’s pretty sure Soda scratched out Sandy’s, too.

Somebody must’ve been embarrassed and started to scribble over the next one he reads, but  they must’ve gotten stopped halfway through, because it’s still legible:

Dallas W. age 9 — cowboy boots — 12/21/58.

Darry’s still lost on how Mama pulled that off. Dally’s got only one other mark on the wall, pretty high up, actually:

Dally — 17th birthday (1966) — cowboy boots.

Soda’s also got one from that day, and it’s the only one where he is wearing shoes, actually. Cowboy boots, just like Dally. Soda had begged for them for years, and got them sixteenth birthday. 

It had been an apology gift from their dad, for banning him from the rodeo. They couldn’t afford Soda risking his health like that, but they could find room in the budget for some nice boots, right? Soda hates shoes, so begging for them was a big deal.

That, and Soda just really likes matching with his friends. Hell, Darry’s half-convinced the reason he works at the DX with Steve is because they get to have matching uniform shirts and hats.

(Well, that, and Evie’s dad owns the greasy joint and has known them for years, so he hired Soda full-time on the spot when he dropped out of school. Apparently he used to be buddies with Uncle Patrick, and Mr. Mathews, actually, back before the war, but now he’s the only one left. Darry kind of understands the feeling.)

Darry hasn’t made the gang line up since his parents died. Most of them are done growing anyway, and even if he did have time to think about it, he can’t imagine seeing anybody’s handwriting up there for his friends, other than his Mama’s and Grandpa Pat’s and maybe a few other family members Darry never got to meet. He runs his hand over the most recent mark, his Mama’s last.

Johnny 12/25/66 — 15 — NEW yellow high tops!

Pony had spent months saving up to get him those. Now they sit up on the mantle collecting dust because he won’t let anyone touch them. 

There’s a crack in the mantle, too, but this house is all they’ve really got, and it just wouldn’t be home if it wasn’t falling apart.

———

bonus inspo pics (because this fic was based on my grandma’s old house that she's since moved out of & it doesn't look like that anymore due to renovations over the years so i'm not doxxing anybody, and I miss it there so. fucking. bad.):

[norinenglish]

Stardew Rancher AU - Intro cutscene

Here's my first piece for the Stardew AU challenge.

If you want to take part too, use the #traffic stardew au tag (You can also use the banner I made). On my blog, I will be using #stardew ranchers au as well.

The writing is under the cut.

>> Next Part

I hate this life.

Jimmy doesn’t remember a day in the last year he has not thought this. He’s staring at a computer screen, as he has been for the last seven hours, when it hits him. He hates this life. In fact, it could barely be qualified as a life. 

He misses nature. Running around in the grass, playing, talking to people… He turns his head around to look at the window, but there isn’t even any on the office walls. He looks around him and only sees rows and rows of cubicles with other lifeless people slaving all day. The clicking of keyboards and mouths, the buzzing of the neon lights, it’s all too much.

I can’t stand it anymore, he thinks to himself. I need a way out.

Suddenly, he remembers a conversation he had with his grandpa, when he was young, about the burden of modern life. He hadn’t really realised what it had meant before today. Jimmy, like his parents, had dismissed it as the stubbornness of an old man who was made to live in the countryside. But it must have stayed on the back of his mind, because he kept the letter. 

In fact… 

He opens the drawer of his desk and there it is. A fancy old letter with a fancy purple seal. 

(He’s definitely not going to think about the fact that he kept it in his drawer at work and the possible implication of that. Nope.)

With shaky hands, he breaks the seal and opens it. The swoosh of the paper unfolding is the loudest sound he’s ever heard in his life. 

The letter says: 

Dear Jimmy, 

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong. 

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: The Ranch. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life. 

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honour the family name, my boy. Good luck. 

Love, Grandpa. 

PS: If the Sherrif is still alive say hi to the old guy for me, will ya? 

He puts the letter down and looks up at the ceiling for a second. 

In all the emptiness he feels, it’s like he’s just grown wing. 

🌿 loading🌿

The bus startles to a stop and Jimmy wakes up. 

“Pelican Town!” The driver screams. 

Jimmy looks around. There’s no else on anymore. He quickly grabs his travel bag and gets out. He says his thanks to the bus driver who just hums unhappily. Guess he really didn’t want to go that far out for just one person. 

On the side of the road is just a small clearing, with broken fences and dirt path. Someone is waiting for him, though. A man with cyan blue hair and an easygoing smile. 

“Hello, you must be Jimmy,” he sayswith a cheerful voice. “I’m Scott, the local florist. Mayor Grian sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival.”

It takes a second for Jimmy to find his words. The reality of what he’s done hitting him finally. He quit his job. He moved out of his appartment. He sold his things and bought a ticket for this small town in the middle of nowhere to become a farmer. 

“Nice to meet you, Scott,” he says after swallowing. “I…”

Gosh, he cannot screw this up. This isn’t like in the city. The people he meets are going to be the community he’s going to live with. He wants to make a good impression. 

Scott smiles, tilting his head to the side. He looks Jimmy up and down with mischief in his eyes in a way that makes Jimmy blush a little. He must be tired. 

“The farm’s right over here, if you’ll follow me.”

Jimmy nods and follows him on the dirt path until they reach an area with a… house. Supposedly. 

“This is the Ranch,” Scott announces, waving his arm around to show the land that stretches before them.. 

The Ranch is an old building made out of wood. It looks like it’s been built in the last century. The farmland around, which was included in Scott’s gesture, is littered with some kind of forest. There are different types of trees, dead wood on the ground, bushes, and even some rocks! Is this really the farm his grandfather loved ? 

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks in a light voice. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him and an air of challenge about him. “Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”

He turns back towards the house itself. Jimmy notes that there’s plenty of firewood on the side of the house. Someone must have stacked it for him. That thought settles in his chest, fluttering like a bird. He won’t sleep in the cold tonight, and that’s thanks to strangers. 

“... And here we are, your new home,” Scott says. 

Just like his words summoned him, a man opens the door and gets down the few steps of his porch to stop in front of them. He pulls the sleeves of his red sweater back to his writs and offers his hand to Jimmy. 

“Ah, the new farmer! Welcome, I’m Grian, the Mayor of Pelican Town.”

Jimmy shakes his hand and introduces himself. Grian nods, seemingly satisfied. 

“You know, everyone’s been asking about you. It’s not every day that someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal.” He turns to look back at the house. “So… you’re moving into your grandfather’s old cottage. It’s a good house… very ‘rustic’.”

“Rustic?” Scott chimes in. “That’s one way to put it… ‘Crusty’ might be a little more apt, though.”

“Rude,” Grian says under his breath, his eyebrows frowning. “Don’t listen to him, Jimmy. He’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of Gem’s house upgrades.”

“Gem?” Jimmy asks.

“She’s the local carpenter. She lives north of the valley, near the mountain.”

Gem, the local carpenter. Jimmy tries to mentally catalogue. She makes house upgrades.  He turns his eyes towards Scott. He doesn’t remember if he said what he was doing. 

“Anyway… You must be tired from the long journey,” Grian says, looking back at the house. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a bit and introduce yourself. The townspeople would appreciate that.”

He turns to leave and sees the box placed next to the mailbox. 

 “Oh, I almost forgot. If you have anything to sell, just place it in the box here. I’ll come by during the night to collect it. Well… Good luck!”

They are gone before Jimmy can really say anything else. But it might be for the better, because he’s exhausted. 

“I’m here,” he says to no one. Maybe to himself. Or maybe to his grandfather. 

Going into the house is a blurr. He barely have time to register the small table with one chair, the fireplace that was lit up for him and the bed. He just melts into the mattress and passes out.

[loopstagirl]

WIP Wednesday

An old fic that I just found incomplete that I'm revisiting to whip into shape!

He moved through to his second youngest, picking up the medicine along the way. Gordon was awake, watching his father miserably. Jeff knelt down beside him, brushing his hair back and smiling softly at the little boy. It was unnerving seeing his hyperactive four-year-old this subdued.

“Hey, buddy,” he said quietly.

“I need to go to the hospital,” Gordon said seriously. Jeff let the back of his hand rest against Gordon’s forehead before sighing and starting to measure out the medicine.

“Do you?” He asked, “like Grandpa?”

Gordon nodded. “Then I can stay with Gramps,” he said, “and look after him.”

Jeff smiled. His father had had a recent knee replacement and when they had taken the boys into visit him, Gordon had been most put-out their grandfather wasn’t leaving with them.

“But he’s at home with Grandma now,” Jeff told him, “she’s looking after him.”

“Oh.” Gordon frowned, but his eyes were glazed, “then I don’t need to go to hospital.”

“No? You reckon Mommy and Daddy will do a good enough job?”

Gordon thought about it and nodded, for once accepting the foul-tasting medicine with only a grimace. Jeff tucked him back in.

“Get some more sleep, kiddo,” he said, “you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

He watched for a long moment as Gordon did as he was told, reminding himself that the doctor had said not to worry. Then a cry from the adjacent room drew his attention and he stood up. One child was sorted: four to go.

[fiercelittlemouse]

What We Left Behind | Arthur Shelby x Reader

Chapter 2.

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You wake up in your countryside house, the new old home. After taking care of the usual chores—fixing a fence and chatting with a neighbor—you head into the city. What was meant to be a simple errand turns into something else when you unexpectedly book a show to perform at. The past quickly creeps back in, and an emotional encounter with Arthur forces you to confront lingering feelings, leaving you lost in a confusing reality filled with pain and uncertainty.

You softly stirred awake to the sounds of birds chirping and a rooster crowing—sounds you haven’t heard since moving to America. Still strange, but today feels like a fresh start.

You slide out of bed and into your slippers, the sun shining through the window and the intricate design of your grandma’s curtains making you stop in the middle of the room, smiling nostalgically as memories like this from your childhood flood back.

You stand there for a moment, lost in thought, a soft smile on your lips. Your light nightgown offers little protection against the chilly morning air, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Oh, I forgot how chilly early mornings can be,” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your arms as you grab the dressing gown nearby.

With a soft yawn, you trot to the kitchen, leaning on the counter as you decide between coffee and tea.

The sun had barely risen over the rolling fields, casting a golden glow across the land. A thin mist still clung to the grass, fading as the warmth of the day settled in. The world was quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was the kind of morning you had longed for—one where no one was telling you what to do, no expectations weighing you down.

You stepped out onto the porch, a steaming cup of tea warming your hands. The wood creaked beneath you as you took in the sight before you—the land your grandparents had entrusted to you, stretching far beyond what eyes could capture. It still felt unreal, being here again, yet something about it grounded you in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

After finishing your tea, you set out to work, starting with the simple things—checking on the animals, filling water troughs, letting the dog run free alongside you. But as you walked along the fence line, something caught your eye. A section of the wooden posts had weakened, the rails barely holding together. A problem to fix. And for the first time in a long while, it was your choice to do it.

With a little smile, you head to the shed, grabbing the necessary tools and embracing the quiet satisfaction of getting things done. No one looking over your shoulder, no one nagging or questioning whether you were capable. Just you, the land, and the morning air.

You sit down on the grass in your pretty white and blue dress—because you could. No one was there to boss you around like usual, and you definitely didn’t mind if you got dirty. Taking a few nails to secure the wooden fence, you start hammering them in, one by one, until the fence is fixed.

A proud smile plays on your lips as you inspect your work—fixed just like any man would do it. You put away your tools and head into the stables to feed the horse, a gorgeous black stallion that your grandpa got into big trouble for—because Grandma hated horses. But he couldn’t help himself. He had to get that horse.

“Hey, boy,” you say with a smile, not wanting to startle him. “You hungry, fella?” you ask as you gather the hay, placing it down in his stall. As he lowers his head to eat, you run a hand along his neck.

“You’ll get your barley later, don’t look at me like that,” you tease, shaking your head as if he understands. “Hay first, rules are rules.” You follow your grandpa’s precise instructions—hay first, barely later, never too much of either—because if there was one thing he took seriously, it was feeding the animals right.

“There, there,” you coo, watching as the horse starts chewing, his shiny black coat catching the light. “You are so pretty, you know that?” you chuckle, as if expecting an answer. “I’ll brush your coat a bit, alright? Just keep calm—don’t kick me.”

You take the brush and gently start running it through his sleek coat, clearing out dust from the hay and anything else that might be there. Then, like a wave out of nowhere, a thought of Arthur and your performance crashes into you. Your hands falter as you compose yourself before resuming, though your movements are slower now—your brow slightly furrowed, your gaze distracted, your vision a bit blurred.

“You know…” you start, talking to the horse as if it’ll help somehow. “I’m in some mess,” you murmur, running the brush through his mane as he eats, carefree. You smile a little, watching him. “Yeah, just keep eating… Ugh, why was I so stupid, huh?” The horse flicks an ear, and you take it as a shrug.

“Yeah, what’s done is done, eh? But you know what bothers me? I saw him yesterday, and I bet he didn’t even plan to be there. Probably just tagged along for the drinks. But he was with some woman,” you ramble.

“She was all pretty and glowing… a damn blonde too,” you roll your eyes at the fact. “Maybe he even got married.” You scoff bitterly at the thought, running into a knot in his mane as you brush.

“I mean, good for him, right? Moving on so easily. Bet he sleeps like a baby at night. Bet he doesn’t even think about—” You pause, sighing as you pat the horse.

“Never mind. You’ve got the simple life. No complicated past, no unfinished business. Just eat, sleep, run free. Lucky you,” you say when suddenly a voice outside snaps you out of your head.

You step outside and see a man standing by the fence, leaning casually and smiling at you.

“Hello?” you ask, your dog walking beside you and eyeing the man.

“Hi there, miss. I’m James, your neighbor. Thought I’d stop by and say hi,” he says with a smile. “I saw you working on the fence…,” he chuckles softly. “If you ever need help, I’m around. That’s all I wanted to say,” he adds, his smile a little nervous.

“I appreciate that, thank you, sir. I’ll be here for a while, so I might just take you up on that offer,” you say with a smile. “I think I even remember you from when I was little, right? You used to live here, didn’t you?”

He smiles and nods, clearly happy to be remembered. “Yes, yes, I’ve always lived here. Nice to see you again.”

You tilt your head, thinking for a moment. “I thought I recognized you… It’s been so long. Did you ever leave this place?”

James shrugs slightly, his gaze wandering over the farm. “I’ve had my time away, but it always pulls you back, doesn’t it? This place has a way of doing that.”

You nod thoughtfully. “I guess I can understand that. Feels a bit like home already, even though it’s been a while.”

He gives a slight chuckle. “It does have a way of growing on you. Hope you’re settling in alright.”

You smile. “Yeah, slowly but surely. There’s always something to do, though.”

James laughs, his expression warming. “That’s the truth. But if you ever need an extra hand, you’ve got one right here.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” you say with a grin. “Thanks again, James. It’s nice to meet you.”

He tips his hat and waves. “Anytime. Nice to see you again, after all these years.”

Around noon, you get ready to head into town, still needing some groceries and other necessities. With your basket in hand, you lock up the house, making sure the animals are fed and taken care of before you head out, feeling no rush.

You walk down the gravel road with ease, the tall grass swaying gently as a soft breeze blows, offering a bit of relief from the sun, which still isn’t too hot. Your heels make a soft whisper on the gravel, and the light bow on your hat dances as the wind catches it. The trees seem to join in, their leaves rustling like they’re admiring something themselves.

After a while, you find yourself in town, heading first to the market for groceries, then to another store. Lost in your own thoughts, you’re suddenly interrupted when a man trots toward you.

“Miss,” he calls out, waving his hand lightly.

You turn around, a bit startled, as he pulls you out of your thoughts. “Yes?” you ask, watching him approach, tipping his hat as he gets closer.

“Miss… How nice to meet you,” he says, polite and proper. “I wanted to ask if you’d sing at my bar. It’s a great place, mind you—definitely not a dive bar,” he adds with a smile, and you chuckle at his attempt to make the place sound more appealing.

“The whole town’s been talking about your performance a few days ago. Do me a favor, miss—I’d pay you well,” he continues with a reassuring smile.

“I really appreciate it, that’s so kind of you, but I’m not sure,” you reply, a bit hesitant. Singing isn’t exactly a priority right now.

“Oh, miss, there’s nothing to be unsure of! It’ll be a great opportunity for you,” he insists.

And after some back and forth, you agree to sing at his bar over the weekend.

Behind the stage you were currently doing a little session of swing dancing, so cheerful in your new sparkly red dress and trying to get yourself in the best mood possible. And you did it, maybe even a little too well, bordering on manic energy—but it felt good. The bar owner gave you a look like he suspected you’d had a line of snow, but who cared?

As usual, you’d get up on the stage in your sparkly outfit and with a big smile, greeting everyone before you started singing, your voice echoing through the air almost enough that it could be heard on the street, not expecting anything to happen other than the usual routine tonight. You were in such a good mood, dancing and singing through the crowd even giving a wink to some of those whose eyes were glued to you. 

As you were lost in your moment you didn’t know what was going on just outside the room, in the hallway of the bar. Arthur, Tommy and John were on their usual routine—raising hell, only this time while they were striding in confidently Arthur abruptly stops, listening to the sound of the voice on the inside… 

“Nah. Fuck this.” Arthur stops cold, fists clenching at his sides.

 “You fuckers knew this, didn’t ya?” he asks in his low, gravelly voice, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“The fuck are you on about eh?” John asks confused, looking at Arthur. 

“You knew she’s singing here, that’s why you dragged me ‘ere,” he says in low voice, eyeing his two brothers. 

“Who the f—oh…” John started loudly, then paused as realization hit. Word of your return had spread like wildfire to those who cared. He stifled a laugh and clapped Arthur on the back. “Come on, man. So what? She’s singing—big deal. You’re over her, eh? Don’t even need to say anything to her.”

John patted his back again, subtly testing the waters even though he knew damn well his brother never got over you.

Arthur’s breathing becomes heavier, his lips pressed in a thin line as he keeps staring ahead, your voice and the bubbly rhythm of the song almost mocking, but luring him in anyway. 

Tommy stepped up beside him, lighting a cigarette with his usual unbothered air. “What’s she gonna do, huh? Fucking eat you? You afraid of her?” he said, giving Arthur’s chest a light shove. He knew exactly why Arthur was hesitating—but that was Tommy Shelby.

“Tom…” Arthur grumbled, huffing like a bull, jaw clenched tight as he stared down.

“You’re gonna walk in there like a fucking boss,” Tommy said, voice low and commanding. “Show her you’ve moved on. That you don’t care. Show her who Arthur Shelby is—not the boy she left behind.”

Arthur’s jaw ticked, breath coming hard as his face reddened at the memory. Finally, he gave a slight nod, inhaled, and jerked his chin forward.

“Let’s go,” he muttered, striding down the hallway. All three of them scanned the pub briefly before moving into their corner, Arthur’s eyes flicking toward you like he couldn’t help it.

You don’t see them come inside, too caught up in the song and occasionally flirting with the handsome men in the crowd closer to the stage where you’re dancing between the tables. 

They settle down in their chairs, John cheekily smiling while he watches you, enjoying Arthur’s discomfort per usual. “She looks like she’s doing pretty good on her own, don’t you think?” He says and elbows Arthur lightly, who’s having a hard time deciding how to behave in the moment. 

Tommy keeps his usual stone cold face, watching everyone and everything calmly, complete opposite of his brother beside him who’s trying hard to stay calm as your teasing voice fills his senses, surrounding him in a way that would’ve been pleasant years ago, but now it’s making him feel so many different things. 

As the music slowly fades you make your way to the bar, taking a small break. You settle down by the bar and the owner comes to you, pointing to the corner table and explaining that you’re wanted there, and the best idea is that you don’t say no. 

“Tom, what the fuck are ya doin’?” Arthur asks him, tugging on his coat like a child would a parent, looking up at him while Tommy stands up, looking at you across the room like a predator would his prey. 

“Just saying hello to an old friend,” he replies calmly. 

You turn around, spotting the men in the corner and your heart does a flip. You hate that it still happens. After everything. After all the years and all the reasons you should have forgotten. But the moment your eyes find him, it’s like no time has passed at all.

“You just do whatever they ask you, alright?” The owner tells you, almost pleading. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout a thing,” you tell him with a little smile and he looks at you confused: “No, I don’t think you understand—” 

“I said it’s alright,” you brush him off and since you were still in your slightly manic state, anything seemed alright so you walk to them, exploring briefly their expressions to check what you might expect. 

“Tommy?” You say with a smile, approaching them with your best mask on, trying to act as if it doesn’t make your heart race just to see them again, especially Arthur who’s looking anywhere but at you. 

“Hello there, love,” he says as warmly as he can, offering a tiniest little smile. 

“John,” you reach to hug him because he stood up too, coming closer even if you were unsure. But the man you cared about the most wouldn’t even look at you, clenching his glass on the table he just looked down, giving you a slightest nod when you said his name in the voice that betrayed the cover you put on, but you compose yourself. 

“You look bloody great,” John’s grin widens as he leans back in his chair, watching you. His eyes flicker with a mix of mischief and curiosity, clearly enjoying the awkward tension brewing between you and Arthur. You manage to smile back at him, though it feels forced. Arthur’s eyes are still glued to the table, his posture stiff and distant.

“Thanks, John,” you say, your voice steady, trying to keep it light. But your gaze is drawn back to Arthur, and the air thickens with unspoken words. You want to say something, anything, to break the silence between you two, but it feels impossible. The history between you is too heavy, too complicated.

Tommy’s the first to break the tension: “Sing us a song, eh?”

“Sorry, I don’t do requests,” you say with a little smirk, trying to lighten up. 

He nods once. “Maybe next time then,” he says as he takes a drag of his cigarette. 

You nod to him and John, Arthur still ignoring you like you don’t exist: “It was nice seeing you again… you guys enjoy yourselves,” and with that you walk away, trying to keep your cool but the weight of everything between you pressing down, sharp and heavy. Aching in your chest. 

You took shaky breaths as you walked away from their view, feeling sad and frustrated by Arthur’s behavior but also understanding why he’s like that. The owner of the bar tried to ask you what happened, following you backstage when you just brushed past him. You vaguely explained, enough for him to understand and leave you alone for a moment before you had to return to the stage. 

Yeah, she looks fine mate, not so sure about you though,” John says casually, sipping his whiskey. 

Arthur’s expression was one of anger, frustration and a bit of sadness. He finishes his whiskey, standing up from the table as he mutters a quick “‘m fine,” leaving them looking and wondering where he’s going.

You toss the cigarette and crush it with your heel, calming your breathing and slowly heading back towards the main area. You didn’t look around, too caught up in feelings you couldn’t brush off no matter how much you tried, not taking in your surroundings when suddenly someone bumps your shoulder so hard you almost spun around. “Jesus f-” your voice catches when you see it’s him. 

“Watch where you’re fokin goin’,” Arthur says in his booming voice, not even bothering to look at who he swept off like a train. 

“Arthur…,” you say softly, wanting to make him acknowledge you in any way. 

“Ah fuck me,” he muttered under his breath and kept walking.

“Yea right, walk away why don’t you?” You finally snap at him, throwing your arms in the air. 

He turns around, clenching and unclenching his fists once again as though he’s trying to hold himself back from doing something he’ll regret. “What do you want, eh? You fucked off, remember?” 

You huff a little. ”Y-you think I wanted to? You think it was my choice?”

“Well it was your fucking choice not to come back, wasn't it? And what do you want now, hm? You expect me to fall into your arms like you didn’t leave me like a fucking stray? Hm?!” He was getting frustrated and hurt all over again. 

“No, but I guess you moved on just fine? Didn’t take long for you to get a ring on your finger,” you bite back, unable to hide the sting of what you’d seen. 

That hits. He flinches, even though it was subtle. “Don’t do that,” he says in a softer voice. “You don’t get to be angry about that,” he says looking anywhere but at you.

“And why not?” You take a step closer. ”You can ignore me the whole night and I’m bad if I ask about a woman you married?” You tilt your head, wanting to meet his eyes.

He huffs a bit, feeling cornered. ”It’s not like that.”

“Then what it’s like? Talk to me…” you say almost pleadingly, stepping even closer, wanting to make him at least look at you. 

His gaze flickered for a fraction of a second to you as you stepped closer, his gaze back on the floor as he blinks, swallowing softly as he tried not to react. 

He bites his lip nervously, still avoiding your gaze as if he’ll turn into stone if he looks at you. ”You shouldn’t have come back,” he mumbles and turns to leave. 

“Arthur!” You called after him, the frustration bubbling up until it made your hands shake.

He paused for a heartbeat. “You never mattered to me anyway,” he said quietly, his back still turned as he glanced just barely over his shoulder.

The words hit like a punch. Your heart dropped. That couldn’t be true.

Not when he used to call you “love” more than your own name. Not when he used to look at you like you were his whole world as he caressed your cheek. 

 You let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh, tears stinging your eyes. “Fucking liar,” you whisper, but he was already gone—disappearing down the corridor and leaving you trembling as everything around you faded into the distance.

The night after this passed like a blur, the rest of your performance done on autopilot. You don’t even remember what the owner of the bar told you—did you agree to do more shows, when? Nothing stuck. 

When you stepped outside in the crisp night air a shiver ran through you, making you a little bit more aware of your surroundings. You started walking down the road, men working in the nearby factories in this late hour, metals clashing against each other as your heels clacked on the cobblestones. Suddenly your neighbor from the other day pulled over beside you, inviting you to come with him. You smiled softly and nodded, accepting the drive even though you didn’t feel like saying a word to anyone, but he distracted you for a bit, talking how well you sang even though you weren’t aware that he even attended your show. 

The streetlights passed while you looked though the window, leaned slightly against the cold surface feeling empty and numb—so different from how you were at the beginning of the night. 

With a soft thank you, you left the car, walking down the gravel path to your house. Once you finally got inside you didn’t bother doing anything, just falling on the bed with a soft sigh. 

Your dress still on, makeup smudged, the silence of the room wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. Then—a soft thump at the window. You blinked slowly and turned your head. There he was—your dog, paws pressed against the glass, tail wagging low. You pushed yourself up and opened the window. He jumped in clumsily, landing beside you with a gentle huff. No questions, no judgment, just warmth.

You curled into his fur, finally letting the weight of the night settle, and closed your eyes.

Helloo again! Finally, the second chapter is here and I'm so happy about it! I've got very lovely comments on the first part and that motivated me even more to continue and thank you so much for that! Part three will be there, with more twists, drama and past that is getting brought up again, so buckle up! Thank you again! <3

Tagging: @vivianleighwishesshewasme @weepingdreammarvel just in case you're still interested in this story. If not, that's totally fine, don't feel pressured to read 😊

[cowboy]

well hello

i'm going to be doing a public-facing journal just to see if there's any interest in conversation about the things i come across weekly and also i guess to keep myself consistent and thoughtful about what i write about.

8/22/2024

i had work today; i slept extremely early (at like 9pm) so i could wake up extremely early (i awoke before my alarm at like 4:45am?). despite being extremely groggy, it was really nice to be up so early. i got to bike down lake shore bike trail before the sun rose.

right before i arrived at the bike trail, coming from the west side, i saw the dark blue clouds cast by the pink rising sun, and they looked like massive, massive mountains. i kept wanting to take photos of the lake with the new light coming over it, but i was gonna be late to my job if i stopped. :(

at work, one of my coworkers learned that his grandpa was going to be put in hospice care. i wanted to ask how he was, and really listen, but i knew that if i did dig into it, it was going to be quickly interrupted by customers, or management, etc. etc. it reminded me of this book IN (it's a comic, actually) and how it can feel scary to reach further to ask how someone is really doing. it wasn't exactly the same, but the concept was there. i did ask if he was doing alright though and he was. i stayed back so he could leave a little earlier.

i've been dealing with some personal turmoils so i decided to jump into the lake (this is often my solution to feeling intense emotions, for some reason). as i biked up to the lake and climbed down to the edge, i saw someone tear their shirt off and leap into the thrashing waves. i set my stuff down and looked over again. a boy was laying on his back, surrounded by his family. he wasn't moving. i squinted and kept watching. no one looked overly concerned, but it was clear that the boy was not doing too hot. as it turns out, that boy had been near drowning, and the person who leapt into the water had done so to pull him out and save him. the hero was thanked by the family and he biked away past me. i heard one of the boy's family members say "i thought you were a goner, bro!" i think so much of how close people are to true danger every day, and this was a big reminder of that.

after having been privy to such a situation, i did think for a moment if it was appropriate for me to jump into the water that was in fact quite intense. but i know myself, so i tore off my clothes and jumped in very quickly. the water was deep and wavy and brightly teal blue. i had little choice but to let it drag me around for a moment. i climbed up on the wall ladder, looked around for a moment, and fell backwards again into an incoming wave. i let it soak my hair (i love how the lake leaves my hair) and then let another wave crash into me before finally scrambling up to the concrete again. i ate some turkey, then took my leave as a herd of geese came honking close to me.

i dragged my bike up to the grassy area and laid out in my underwear in the sun. the sounds of the wind and cicadas was so beautiful. after maybe 15 minutes, i climbed a nearby tree, made friends with it, and then put on my shorts and sweater, and biked home.

i bought new glasses just now since they mailed me a coupon. they're cute frames, two pairs! my old ones are like 4 years old now...

I've been feeling really useless lately, but not in a self-deprecating way (not too self-deprecating, though, i think?). i just have really been trying to figure out what i'm up to these days and while the answer is "so much", it's also just as much "so little". which is very frustrating.

I'm going to look into setting up an online shop in a moment i think. i tabled at chicago fan expo the other day and i had quite a few people interested in my work, which really surprised me. i'm not sure how to focus my perspective and """talent""" into art that makes me feel like i'm really doing anything worth adding to the world, but if i can manage to do that, it would be cool.

maybe it can also be a side thing.

anyway. now i'm rambling.

i'm going to keep trying to ground myself today with breathing. it's something i picked up from thich nhat han and also my therapist (lmao). i used to hate the idea of "breathing" doing "anything" for me, but something really changed in the past month or so, and it totally makes sense now.

i hope everyone's having a nice day and so on and so forth :)