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boxofbonesfic · 1 year ago

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Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [4]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 4,609

A/N: omg i’m back from the dead with an update, lol. thank you all for being patient!! i really hope you all enjoy this next installment. i think it’s pretty safe to say… the shit is hitting the fan. mind the warnings! divider by @firefly-graphics

You sleep so fitfully it wakes both you and Ransom, your husband blinking blearily at you in the dark as he asks if you’re okay.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, turning over onto your side with a frustrated sigh. A quick glance at the digital clock on the bedside table tells you it’s after four in the morning. The last you looked, it had been just after one-thirty, and you aren’t really sure where the time’s gone. You can’t get comfortable, and though the pills normally make you drowsy, you find yourself frustratingly awake. Ransom mumbles something you don’t really catch before settling back down again.

With a huff, you slide out from underneath the covers, and the tile flooring is cool on your feet. If you can’t sleep, you might as well walk. You pull a hoodie out of the dresser, and slip from the room. You squint into the darkened living room, and sigh with relief when you find no one there. On your way past, you sneak a piece of fruit from the refilled bowl on the counter, peeling the banana on your way out the door.

You immediately feel better outside, taking a deep breath. The air is tinged with salt from the sea, and you suck down grateful lungfuls of it, sighing. You don’t know how to explain your drop in mood after dinner, excepting maybe hormones. Either that, or—

No. You shake yourself. You’re not going to think about it. Not going to give that tiny, ridiculous seed any leeway to sprout. Besides, you have more pressing things to be concerned about—like the fact that you’ve already pregnancy’d out of your swimsuit. What you had thought was gas upon packing your bikini a few days ago is now clearly something else. You’re just on the cusp of two months along now, and you supposed—rather foolishly, apparently—that you would not yet be showing.

You glare at the slight protrusion and take another bite of your banana, all while getting the distinct feeling that your belly was glaring right back at you.

“You’re supposed to be working with me here, kid,” you mutter. You know that part of the purpose of this trip is to spring the news, but you don’t want to hop on the train to grandparent-town before you and Ransom are ready. Though it’s just a bump, you rub your belly somewhat absently as you stare down at the ocean.

“Mind if I join you?” Lloyd sounds like Lloyd when he speaks. You turn in the chair to look at him. He raises an eyebrow. You want to say no—and you can tell he knows it too.

“No,” you say after a moment, biting back the put upon sigh that threatens to escape right after it. Try to get along. Try for Ransom. “Go ahead.” He settles himself in one of the other patio chairs, before raising an eyebrow.

“Having trouble sleeping?” He asks, and you nod with a grimace.

“Um, yeah.” You nod, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I think it’s, well. You know.” You point at your stomach, and Lloyd laughs.

“Kid keeping you up already? That was fast.” He gestures down at the slight swell, and even though it’s hidden by your t-shirt, you get the feeling he might have noticed it before you did. “I figured they had to be out of the womb for that.” You laugh in spite of yourself, and the sound surprises both of you. You aren’t used to Lloyd being funny. Well, funny to you.

“Yeah,” you say. “Me too.”

“Have you thought of any names yet?” He asks. You have, privately. Ransom had said he didn’t want to pick a name too early—how can we name a kid we haven’t met, Sweetheart— but you can’t help it, looking up baby name lists in secret, going through each letter section and writing down the ones you like in the notes app on your phone.

“What, did Ransom not tell you?” You say saltily. “We’re waiting.” Lloyd rolls his eyes.

“Yes, but that’s not what I asked. I asked if you thought of any.” Your head snaps up, and you can’t help but look at him, surprised. Lloyd’s observant, you know that’s a quality both he and Ransom share, but you can’t help but be shocked at the depth of said observations.

I didn’t know he knew me so well.

The three of you had known each other since college, of course, but being that you spent most of your time with Ransom—and that hadn’t changed since you’d gotten married—you hadn’t realized Lloyd had had as much time to observe you as he apparently had.

“Well, yes,” you admit after a moment, biting your lip as an embarrassed smile blossoms on your face. “I guess I’ve… thought of a few.” Lloyd smiles and leans in conspiratorially.

“You want to share with the class?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why? So you can run and tell Ransom I didn’t?” Lloyd scoffs, and has the gall to look offended.

“Me? You wound me, Princess. I would never tell tales about something told to me in confidence.” He holds up his right hand and crosses his fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You never were a boy scout.” You say flatly, and Lloyd laughs.

“Fine. Agent’s honor, then.” He stares at you imploringly, and with no small amount of hesitance, you fish your phone out of the pocket of your shorts and pull up the tab.

“Well, I… I have them separated, you know. Boy names, girl names, neutral names, I’m sure you get it.”

“Start with the boys.” Lloyd leans back in his chair, his hands behind his head. He reminds of you of Ransom just then, and guilt fills your stomach with cold lead. This is a conversation you should be having with your husband, the father of your child, first and foremost. Not his brother. You swallow thickly.

“Maybe… maybe I should wait for Ransom,” you say guiltily, but Lloyd waves his hand at you, dismissing your concerns.

“Come on, Princess. It’s not like you’re picking now, right?” You nod reluctantly. “Right. We’re family now, aren’t we?” It’s tempting—you’ve been dying to talk names with Ransom. But with him being stuck on waiting until the baby actually comes to discuss it—at least for now—you’ve been shit out of luck.

“He’s my husband Lloyd. It’s a little different.” You reply, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Is it?” He hums, tapping a finger on the wide arm of the chair. His signet rings clack dully against the wood as he cocks his head at you. Your face heats, and you don’t really know why.

“Y-yes,” you say, forcing a laugh. “Very.”

The way he says family makes you shudder, like he wants to say something else entirely—you just don’t know what. Ransom would say you were being ridiculous, looking for something that isn’t there. He did want me to get closer to Lloyd…

“I guess you’re right, though,” You say as you glance back down at the app. “About, um. Family.” Resigned, you scroll down to the first name. “I really like Harlan,” you begin, and Lloyd laughs.

“After the old geezer? God, Ransom’ll love that. Keep going.” You’re pleasantly surprised at how enthused you feel at his approval—perhaps that means Ransom will like them too. Heartened, you continue.

“Oliver, I really like Oliver. And Devin.”

“Devin’s not bad.”

You run through the list, finding it shockingly easy to talk to Lloyd. You reason that it’s because he’s not showing off, or parading something expensive around in front of you with that weird, knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. When you run out of names, the two of you sit in silence for a while, watching the dark water.

“I think Ransom will like your list.” Lloyd says after a lengthy silence. “They’re good names.”

“Thanks.” The sky is just barely beginning to lighten at the edges. How long have I been sitting out here? You stand up hurriedly, stretching. “I should, um. Head inside and try to get some sleep before everyone gets up,” you say, shuffling awkwardly between his chair and yours to get to the door behind you. Lloyd makes an approving noise low in his throat.

“Yeah, you need your baby-sleep,” he says, and when you look back at him, he winks. “You have a good night, Princess.” Again, you feel like he wants to say something else with the nickname, like it has an unspoken connotation you don’t know.

“Um, yeah,” you say, turning to avoid his gaze as you shuffle back inside. “You too.”

—

You wake mid-morning, your stomach churning as you race to the bathroom, a hand clapped tightly over your mouth. Acid burns your throat as you empty your after-midnight snack into the bowl, groaning. You lean back against the tub, the porcelain thankfully cool against your back through your t-shirt. It feels good against your heated skin.

You grimace at the foul taste in your mouth as you get up, leaning hard against the sink as you splash water on your face and rinse the bile from your tongue. You’re glad Ransom’s not there—his doting is becoming exhausting, especially now that Lloyd is doing it too. Their constant overbearing presence is enough to make you glad you’d woken up alone. The shower is still wet from Ransom’s turn in it, the stone flooring in the stand-up shower warm to the touch.

The villa’s bathroom is as luxurious as the rest of it, equipped with a jacuzzi tub in the corner opposite the shower. The water is perfect when you step in, and you stand there, absently enjoying the feel of it. The sound of a knock startles you, and you lean your head around the foggy glass divider that separates the shower from the rest of the bathroom.

“Ransom?”

Your husband pokes his head into the bathroom.

“Oh good,” he says, stepping inside. “You’re up. I know you had trouble sleeping last night.” There’s a sympathetic note to his voice. “I’m sorry.” You duck back around the partition, shivering at the cool air that gusts over you with his entrance. He crosses the room with long, purposeful strides to poke his head into the shower. Ransom pays no mind to the water as he kisses your cheek, worried little frown working its way onto his lips.

“Are you okay, Sweetheart?”

You shrug, leaning back into the spray with a sigh. “I’m just tired,” you say, and he nods, pressing another kiss to your forehead. You’re half expecting him to make a joke about you being tired on vacation, but he doesn’t, his eyes dropping down to the swelling curve of your belly.

“Well, you’re baking a person in there,” he replies with a smile. “It makes sense that you’d be tired.”

You make a face, and he laughs. “Still.” You run wet hands through your dripping curls, massaging your scalp with the tips of your fingers. “Ugh, what time is it, anyway?”

“Almost time for lunch,” Ransom says, and you can see his silhouette through the frosted glass as he reaches for the sprayable sunscreen on the bathroom counter. “That’s why I came to get you, I figured you might be getting hungry.” It’s true that your stomach is painfully empty. “And, you know, Linda and Richard are here.”

You groan, smacking your palm to your forehead with a wet clap. “Oh my God. I’m sorry, I totally forgot they were getting in today.” Great. You and Linda haven’t exactly been close—her gin-doused toast at your wedding had been more of a lament over the loss of her son than a celebration of your union. In fact, the only person in a worse mood at the reception than Linda was—

Lloyd.

“It’s okay. They’re settling in, getting all unpacked, and besides, I told Linda you weren’t feeling well.” You swallow your retort as you turn off the water and force a smile. You know your mother-in-law well enough to know she had most definitely taken your absence as a personal affront. Despite your attempts to deepen the relationship, she’d remained aloof, barely tolerating your presence at the few family events you were actually invited to before the wedding, and enduring your frequent presence after said nuptials with simmering contempt.

In fact, you were surprised that she was even coming at all, all things considered. Ransom seems to notice the look on your face and he scoffs, reaching forward to tap the tip of your nose with one finger.

“Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what? I didn’t even say anything,” you grumble, grabbing your towel and shimmying past him. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what I’m like, your mother hates me.” Ransom scowls at you as you plant yourself on the counter, rubbing lotion and sunscreen into your dewy, post shower skin.

“She doesn’t hate you.” You fix him with a look, and Ransom holds his hands up placatingly. “She doesn’t. She just… she’s… protective.” You raise an eyebrow as you stare at him, pressing your lips into a firm line. “Look, all of that stuff aside, she’s here now, and I think she’s really trying to meet us halfway. And I know she’s going to be especially excited about…” He trails off as he rests a hand on the swell of your belly. When you don’t respond, he pouts a little, sticking his lower lip out until it trembles.

“I did it for your father,” he reminds you, and you sigh, throwing your hands up.

“Fine,” you relent. You grimace at Ransom in the mirror, and he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your wet hair. “But I’m doing the announcement. You’re riding high on your locket gift, you gotta give me something.” You sigh, and he laughs. It’s infectious, and you can’t help but smile.

“Deal.” Ransom kisses your cheek. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast in you two.”

—

Breakfast—brunch, really—is served on the beach. You’re not sure when the tables had been set up, but they’re laden with fresh fruit, waffles, oatmeal, bacon—too many things to count. The anxiety that grips you at the sight of the small crowd gathered there is almost enough to make you turn around, to tell your husband to shove his deal, and return to the safety of your hotel room, but you swallow the urge. As if he’s privy to your thoughts, Ransom squeezes your hand affectionately.

“Don’t worry about it, Sweetheart.” He whispers, one hand on your back as he helps you down the stairs and into the sand. “It’s gonna be like cuddling a basket full of kittens, you’ll see.” You find your mother-in-law in the crowd, her lips pressed thin and brow furrowed as if she’s already displeased about something, despite the fact that they’d only just arrived.

Maybe, if one of those kittens is a grizzly bear.

You offer your husband a strained smile.

“Thanks, Ran.” You make your way across the warm sand, dreading every step.

“Look who’s up!” Your father is the first to see you, waving as he stands up from the table. He claps Ransom on the back vigorously. “Glad you could join us. This one wouldn’t let us touch a thing till you all got here.” He jerks his thumb at Lloyd. He grins at you over your father’s shoulder.

“I thought Sleeping Beauty would appreciate us waiting.” You don’t know why, but you feel guilty about your midnight conversation with your brother-in-law, like you’d crossed into unfamiliar territory. You offer him a strained smile.

“Thanks.”

You make your rounds, greeting your family as you apologize for your tardiness. Your brother hugs you warmly.

“Look at this spread,” he says, gesturing at the table. “Your in-laws go all out.”

“Lloyd doesn’t do anything halfway,” you laugh dryly. “I’m just happy you’re here.” You’re reminded of how intense he’s been this entire trip, how focused he is on ensuring everything goes well—almost like he’s the one trying impress his in-laws, and not Ransom. You spot Linda, deep in conversation with your mother, and as you grimace as Ransom steers you in her direction. When she sees you, her tight mouth curves into what you assume is meant to be a smile.

“And I—Oh! There you are.” She hugs Ransom, pulling him tightly against her chest. Your husband had told you early on that his mother was not the most… publicly affectionate of people, and as she pulls him but wonder who the show is for—you, or your parents. “I’m so happy to see you both.” She greets you in a more muted fashion, but you are still unprepared for her over-familiar embrace. It’s a far cry from the last time you’d seen her, coldly wishing you a “Merry Christmas” over a pack of wholesale department store socks.

You try to smile anyway, awkwardly fitting your arms around her shoulders.

“Its, um, it’s good to see you too?” You curse inwardly at yourself for making it sound like a question, but Linda either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care as she regards you warmly.

“Lloyd’s told me you all have been having a ball,” Linda laughs, clapping her hands excitedly. “I love that.” You nod stiffly, unsure of what to say.

“Um. Yeah. It’s been lovely.”

“I was just so excited to come, you know family is everything.” She nods sagely, as if dispensing priceless advice, instead of parroting what Lloyd’s been saying to you for four days straight. tWhen it comes down to it, it’s really all we have.”

“I, um. I couldn’t agree more.” You jump a little as Ransom rests his arm around your shoulders, but quickly lean into the reassurance of his touch. “Thanks for coming.”

“We couldn’t be happier,” Ransom replies, leapfrogging effortlessly off of your awkward input. “In fact, we’re so happy all of you could come.” He speaks louder, and you swallow thickly, knowing where he’s leading you. Ransom looks to you pointedly, and suddenly, despite your earlier determination, you find yourself struggling to speak.

“I—um, yes. God, sorry. I’m not good at speeches, you guys know that,” you reply, a self-deprecating little smile worming its way onto your lips. “I’m just, um. I’m really thankful you could all be here. Blending families is never easy.” You look down at your feet. “But I’m so glad we’re all trying. My parents told me that it takes a village to raise a child, so… hopefully I’ve found my village.” You rest a hand on your belly as you peek at your family through your lashes.

Oh no. No, they’re all angry, they—

“Oh my GOD!” Your mother shrieks, before bursting into tears as she charges forward, hugging you tightly. She places her hand over your own, wiping messily at her face with the other. “You think you could have buried the lead any deeper?!” She squats down until she’s face to face with your belly. “Hello in there!”

“Oh my God, Mom—” Your father’s embrace is tighter than ever, and you can feel his happy tears soaking into your hair. “Dad, you’ll kill us both like this,” you wheeze, and he releases you with a cough, wiping nonchalantly at his wet eyes. Linda hugs you again, pressing lipstick-stained kisses to your cheeks as she babbles about how happy she is to be a grandmother, and you bear it with as much patience as you can.

Lloyd clears his throat, holding up both a bottle of champagne and several flutes.

“A toast, maybe?” He asks, before popping the cork. As he’s pouring, he winks at you. “Sorry Princess. None for you.” You return his smile thinly. Lloyd finishes filling the glasses, and your families grab them hurriedly as he lifts his own. Lloyd’s eyes find yours.

“To blending families.”

The words seem to echo in your ears uncomfortably. You mumble your agreement as you look away, twisting your wedding ring with nervous fingers. It lingers in your mind even as you try to dismiss it. Your father clears his throat.

“Now can we eat?”

You’re careful of your queasy stomach, picking at a few slices of toast along with a few mouthfuls of fresh fruit. As the rest of your family socializes, you wander down to the water, standing with your feet in the surf as you eat.

“I just wanted to say congrats again.” Linda repeats herself as she comes to stand next to you. “I really can’t tell you how happy I am.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a stiff nod. “We’re… we’re really excited too.”

“To see my boys be family again… It’s worth anything.”

For a moment you’re confused. “I mean, babies do bring families together,” you say, your brows furrowing. Linda shakes her head.

“You don’t understand. I mean, how could you? You tore them apart without even thinking twice about it. But this is a new chapter for you—for all of us. I think it’s going to be wonderful.”

You scoff disbelievingly. “I didn’t ‘tear your family apart’,” you reply sharply. “You disagreeing with Ransom’s choices—you know what? I really don’t want to argue right now.” You say, smiling tightly. “Thank you for coming. Really.” You ball your hands into tight fists around the rim of your paper plate as you march back toward the table. You toss the plate into the trash with more force than necessary. Ransom rests a worried hand on your shoulder.

“Hey are you—”

“I’m going for a walk.” You grit the words out through your clenched teeth. “I just need a couple of minutes.” Ransom moves to follow you, but you shake your head. “Alone.” You aren’t in the mood to hear him defend his mother, not today. He watches you silently as you about-face, storming off down the beach.

You march steadily until you can no longer hear the sounds of music or conversation, following the shoreline until your family are just vaguely people-shaped specks against the sand. There are more rocks on this side of the little cove, and you pick your way carefully across their slick surfaces as you walk. You bend down to sift through the wet sand for a couple of small stones, and you toss them angrily into the water one by one.

“Family,” you mutter, watching a rock skip across the water’s surface twice before throwing another one. “Maybe that’s where he fucking gets it.” Ransom’s heavy sigh makes you turn, slipping a little on the rocks.

“Careful, don’t want you falling and hurting that pretty head. I need you to tell me where who’s getting what.”

You turn to glare at him sharply. “I told you I needed some space.”

“I gave you some,” he replies, smiling amusedly. “I waited a whole ten minutes before I followed you out here.” You scowl at your husband, before turning back to the water, hurling another stone into the shallow water with a satisfying plop. “Come on, Sweetheart. Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

You release an exasperated breath as he makes his way over to you.

“You know what’s up, Ransom.” You fix him with a tired look over your shoulder. “Your mother loves to hate me.”

“I know.” His soft reply takes the wind out of you, leaving you sputtering at his admission.

“I—what?”

“I know. I know she doesn’t like you, Sweetheart. Everything changed after we got married, and… it was hard for her. And for Lloyd.” You roll your eyes at his brother’s mention.

“Lloyd? Please.” You roll your eyes. “So what, he had a little crush on me from before you and I got together. It’s been years.”

“It was more than a little crush.”

“Oh my God, Ran. So what? That makes it okay for her to make me miserable every time I see her?” You moan, throwing your hands up. Ransom catches them, placing them gently back down by your sides before he pulls you to his chest. He smells good—familiar.

“No, no it doesn’t.” He presses a kiss into your hair. “It doesn’t make it okay.” It feels silly to cry over something as minuscule as this, but you can’t help it, frustrated tears filling your eyes as you press your face into your husband’s shirt. He strokes your back quietly as you sob, rubbing soothing circles into your skin until you run out of tears.

“Stupid pregnancy hormones,” you sniff, drawing the back of your hand roughly across your face.

“Is that what we’re blaming for this?” Ransom asks amusedly, and you swat at him, still sniffling even as a small smile plays at the corners of your mouth.

“Yes.” You nod stoutly. “Get ready for that for the next nine months.”

Ransom laughs. “Noted.” He leans down to kiss you, and you let him, sinking gratefully into his arms. He doesn’t stop, though, nipping at your lower lip as he hums with pleasure. You giggle against his mouth as Ransom’s hands find your hips, squeezing them. There are plenty of large boulders sticking out of the sand, and Ransom takes full advantage, walking you backward until you’re pressed against one. You hiss as the cold, wet stone meets your skin, but it’s easy to ignore it as your husband kisses his way down your jaw.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Ransom mumbles, making quick work of the buttons on your shirt. The bikini top you’re wearing underneath is quickly pushed up to allow Ransom to roll your puffy nipples between his eager fingers. He deftly undoes the button on your shorts, and you let him tug them down one leg before he lifts the other, wrapping it around his hip.

You whine as he tugs aside your swimsuit bottoms, his thick fingers stroking gently at your already damp folds.

“Already wet, Princess,” he says with a sultry chuckle. “Gonna blame the pregnancy hormones for that, too?” He drags his thumb through your slick folds, and you stare up at him, your hips twitching as you whine. He grins at you, before popping his wet thumb into his mouth.

Princess. You don’t know why it gives you pause, your cottony thoughts slow to connect the dots as he grinds the heel of his palm against your swelling clit. He’s hard already, his cock pressing hard into the soft meat of your thigh, throbbing.

“Fuck—wait, Ran—” He kisses you again, sweeping your words away with the sweet press of his tongue. Princess.

“Don’t wanna wait,” he growls against your lips, and you feel him fumble between your bodies for a moment before his bare cock slides against you. You can’t help but moan at the feel of it, the thick tip of him pressing enticingly against your entrance. The stretch and burn of his entry is delicious, and for a moment you’re entirely wordless, staring down the line of your own body as he forces you open.

“Fuck, Princess, can’t get over how tight you are—”

Your eyes widen as he bottoms out, the sharp chords of pleasure cut short as fear takes their place. You stare up at him as terror curdles the desire growing in your belly, his name a fearful whisper on your lips.

“Lloyd?”

He grins, pulling out slow before sinking back in to the hilt.

“Aw, Princess,” he says, rolling his hips into yours with heavy, languorous strokes. “What gave it away?”

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Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale imagine #lloyd hansen imagine #ransom drysdale smut #lloyd hansen smut #ransom drysdale x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #ransom drysdale x you #lloyd hansen x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale #darkfic #dark au #smut #boxofbonesfic

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brainrot-goes-brrrrrr · 1 year ago

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School bus graveyard headcanons :D

First sbg post, lets go!! No fastpass spoilers. Formatted on a laptop.

Aiden used to be a really light sleeper. Like if someone were to breathe within his vicinity, he would be up or at least aware that they were there. I think it was because he either had to move around a lot due to his parents and he wasn’t really able to get comfortable in one place, or because he was left alone often and he was aware of his surroundings. It has gotten better after this final move. I do think, though, after the whole deal with Savanna that he sleeps heavier just because he is exhausted

If a store has a sale where it is buy-one-get-one-free, Ben will take full advantage of it. Like the sales at Walmart where you buy a shit ton of single color tank tops or t-shirts for like ten dollars. It would explain his outfit variety, or lack thereof.

I like to think that Logan is stronger than what most people think when they see him. Not like visible muscle, mainly usable muscle that doesn’t really show up. He works with his grandparents like a florist(?), and I think that he does a good chunk of the heavy lifting considering their age. Large bags of dirt, fertilizer, and heavy pots require at least some muscles in order to do it effectively, and if he did it often it is pretty much a work out. [we love Logan here]

Taylor has curly hair, but just straightens it. I have no reasoning for this, I just think it fits her, just trust me on this one. I also think that she always carries a couple hair ties on her wrist or in her bag at all times. Being in the mechanics club she would likely have to have her hair up so that it stays out of her face or so it doesn’t get caught in tools. She also has a couple just in case anyone in the group needs them, mainly for Ashlyn, but I also think Aiden would use them to tie his bangs back or something.

Ashlyn just dies in the summertime because of her hair, mainly due to the heat and the humidity. I used to have long hair, and in the summer it caused me to sweat so much to the point where I felt disgusted whenever it touched me. It gets worse at night too because I’m pretty sure she sleeps with her hair down, at least when she is at home. Don’t get me started on the frizzing, with that much hair it seems like a nightmare.

Tyler is a hallway crush, it is honestly funny. I think it has to do with him being in the baseball club, and the fact that I like to think twins are popular (people just like to talk to them/Taylor is charismatic, and Tyler is considered a “jock”). He knows about it, but he does not get it or do anything about it. He is already too busy with school, his family, and now his friends and the Phantom dimension. Several people have come up to Taylor asking for his number, and she hates it every time.

Both of the twins have several moles/beauty marks on their face, and just in general, however, I like to think they are mirrored. For instance, if Tyler had one right above his right eye brow then Taylor has one above her left. Is this realistic, no clue but I think it is cool.

let me know what you think about these!!

#school bus graveyard #sbg #aiden clarke #ashlyn banner #school bus graveyard webtoon #tyler hernandez #taylor hernandez #ben clarke #logan fields #school bus graveyard headcanons #headcanon

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itsgrimeytime · 1 year ago

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The Nurse (Part Six) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @t-uroboros @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @pascalshearts @hopefulatrocity @xoyouronlyamorrxo @fuseburner @idkseraphine @all-for-kpop @carlgrimeskisser @emo-potato-virgil @timotheesrealgf @mcuclintasha

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You’d always wondered where he’d ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, angst, angsty!Rick, jealousy, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: I listened to Boyfriend by Dove Cameron to write this, so... I think you can assume how this vibes. You simply have this man WHIPPED, I will not take any further questions. Thanks for reading :)) ]]

Your eyes were hazy, something warm coming across your skin, as you followed the empty hallways. Well, not empty.

Rick was there, Judith carefully held in his arms -every once in a while, he'd lean down to kiss her forehead. The casual affection took you somewhere else for a moment, like watching your grandparents in the kitchen just so natural in each other's spaces -so domestic. When you were younger, reading books about extravagance -big gestures and life-threatening situations, your mind had settled on the balance of fairytales.

Who wished for a lackluster ending? Who wanted to dance in the kitchen too early in the morning, instead of the adventure of a lifetime? It hadn't made sense then.

But watching him now, gentle and bouncing around the room, you'd realized somewhere deep within yourself... maybe you had.

The idea of a home, where the sun seeped through curtains and the smell of breakfast wavered out through the air. Smiles, and playgrounds. Movie nights, and the whispers of promises of forever.

Your brain fogged, and you blinked to try to clear your head. Even just for a solid second, you still found Rick in your eyesight. And maybe he was dusted in dirt, and his hair wasn't washed, but the idea with him made much more sense. You just couldn't chance the thought, not in this world.

"You're drooling."

Clearing your throat, you turned to the intruder -Michonne, her smile small but still enough, "Very funny."

She paused, eyes focused on you for a second -like she could tell you were off. Straightening in her seat, she fully faced you -concern furrowed in her brow, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you echoed, eyes drifting to the pair - imagining the warm glow of a kitchen instead of the cold prison walls, "-just thinking about what I'm missing, you know?"

Michonne turned back to the two, "Yeah, I know."

"Can you imagine your own backyard?" you retorted, in disbelief with a laugh aired in your tone.

"My own house," she hummed, eyes flicking to the ceiling instead, "-I think I'd have a dog."

"Sometimes," you took the edge of your shirt in between your fingers -the material soft to the touch, "-I think about what curtains I would have. Isn't that stupid?"

"No," she answered -simply.

Michonne was direct like that, her answers straightforward and steady; sometimes, you doubted she'd ever really been insecure about an idea. She seemed so confident, you never thought to go against her. You didn't know her past, but it was hard to imagine anything breaking through that resolve.

You pursed your lips, turning back to the two -he was smiling now, the crinkle by his eyes so prominent as he looked down at Judith. It was so unabashedly bright; despite his whole world crumbling, he'd still lit up your corner of the world. And maybe you were a little biased, but you thought it'd be a tragedy if it went dark again.

"You should tell him," Michonne spoke, unflinchingly as if she'd read your mind.

You whispered, a breath across the room -you'd never named it, "Tell him what?"

She placed a hand on your shoulder, a gentle pressure that guided your eyes to meet hers. Her eyes leveled with yours, the look was easy to read despite the schooled expression -she knew, and so did you. You often wondered how many could see it in you, you knew it was obvious -the gazes searching to find his first, the stares lasting just a touch too long, smiling when he did.

"I think you know."

And you did.

You just weren't sure of much, you weren't sure if this world could be... loved. Could anyone in this world love or be loved? Despite what you felt, deep in your heart, you still weren't sure. Was it even possible for it to work? With everything else so harsh and direct, how could you even begin to-

"Plus," Michonne interrupted, a smile biting at her lips, "-you could do worse."

You laughed, leaning your head back to the sky -the thoughts fleeing from your mind like leaves in the wind, "I could."

When you leveled your head, your eyes connected with something new -Rick was looking at you. Bright blue followed the movement of your face, your lips quirked into a smile and you raised a hand to wave. Trying to avoid the warmth that swirled up in your stomach and the very real feeling of 'I told you so' radiating from Michonne just beside you, you pushed forward.

And there it was, the bright smile you'd seen just moments before except this time, it was directed to you. In a spare second, he pulled Judith's little arm up and waved back -gentle movements, but the notion there stayed the same.

Laughter took the place of a response, and you couldn't quite get your brain to form anything else -it was so fuzzy with memories you hadn't made yet, but you wanted to. Eventually.

Your eyes flickered to the sky, it had to be midday at this point -just as it began to cool off in the day. With daylight flickering, you had someplace to be.

"Alright," you hummed pulling yourself into gear, "-I can only handle so much of Rick Grimes a day."

Michonne laughed, "Liar."

You snorted, walking out into the day -eyes searching for a particular person. It had started about a month ago when you and Daryl had formed a bet. He'd said something about your choice of a weapon, and you'd said something about his.

"Bet if we switched, I could kill more walkers than ya."

"You are so on."

So, with some new rules in place, Daryl had sworn on the blue sky that he'd teach you how to use a bow. Wasn't fair if you didn't know how, so it was a necessary step.

Your weapon wasn't as... complex. So, the opposite wasn't really necessary.

You eyes caught him in the field, where he stood across from a... what the hell is that?

There's was a tall branch, sticking up from the ground with burlap sacks and hay sticking out -instead of good seams and crisp corners, however, this was not quite a masterpiece.

You burst into laughter, eyes following the desperately tied rope and hay poking out of corners. It truly looked like a nightmare, but on the area where a "face" might be was detailed of an eyepatch and angry eyebrows.

"Really?" You yelled across the grass, as Daryl spun to you -shrugging as if he hadn't put any time into making... that.

Ranging closer, you extended your hand toward the character, you'd say for now, "I didn't know you were into arts and crafts!"

"Keep laughin'-" Daryl rolled his eyes, not quite responding to you as he loaded up his arrow -tone solid, but you could tell he was light.

Daryl was something you had to get used to, something you had to learn. He was a bit of an icy mystery to any outsiders, but you knew he cared an awful lot more than anyone claimed to.

"Maybe I will," you quipped, "-we ready?"

"Yea," he stood off the ground, brushing dirt off his pants, "-we're losing daylight, gotta start soon anyway."

He was surprisingly attentive, slowly doing each step at your pace -it was an air the man hadn't exposed to you yet. Kind and gentle. He was a great teacher, to your benefit.

Watching as he seemingly without a flinch, landed an arrow into the... target. Right on the eyepatch, and if you took out a ruler probably in the perfect middle. Why did you take this bet again?

Then the weapon was in your hands, the arrow already in, and just awaiting your next move. Trying to remember the steps, Daryl guided your hands to the right position and pulled back your shoulders -there was a proper posture, but you doubted he used it.

That was when a new voice presented itself, just as Daryl adjusted your grip on the bow, tilting the tip down a touch -assumingly something was wrong in your technique.

"What are y'all doing?"

You knew that drawl. He was always an echo in your brain, words bouncing around in your head -he'd stuck with you in so many different ways.

You spun around -eyes finding him with ease, "Hey, cowboy! I could ask you the same question."

Daryl hadn't said anything yet, his mouth in a stubbornly straight line and that was odd for him. Especially when talking to Rick. But then you looked at him, Judith wasn't in his arms anymore.

His flannel was rolled up his arms, and his eyes laid intently on the hand that Daryl had wrapped around your wrist to push down the bow. It was still connected there, passively, like he was waiting to take the weapon out of your hand. You hadn't minded, it was completely like a guiding hand really, nothing else.

Rick pursed his lips, something set in his jaw, "Right."

You furrowed your brow, quickly gesturing the bow to Daryl -which he with ease accepted. He knew something more than you, you could tell in the way that their eyes flicked to each other, heavy and filled with something you couldn't really read. The air stilled and brushed across your skin like a harsh gust of wind.

"Why? Is everything alright?" you asked, concern turning over in your tone. You'd always assumed the worse -especially as one of the sole medical professionals, you knew you shouldn't have gone so far out-

"What? Oh yes," he seemed to blink, facing you again -all the tension in his face seemed to melt and his hand went to rest on your shoulder, "-nothin' to worry about."

You exhaled, shaking the buzzing under your skin out as much as you could, "Okay, good."

He smiled at you, but it wasn't all there. Something was wrong, you knew it, but it apparently wasn't an emergency? Did he need to talk to you? Was he okay?

"I was just teachin' 'em how to use the bow," Daryl echoed, tone solid and seeming to address something you hadn't noticed -talking directly to Rick, "-nothin' else."

You quirked your brow, genuinely confused by the shift in the energy, "What else would we be doing?"

Rick's eyes flickered to you, where you now stood -kind of puzzled and a bit tense in the newfound energy you found yourself in. He sighed, running his other hand through his hair -you knew that was a sign.

"'Course," he hummed, his voice a little less restrained, but still not quite... Rick, "-it's for that bet you two have, right? Sorry for interrupting, just..."

He looked at Daryl -eyes unbreaking, and intense.

"Curious," he finished, eyes connecting to yours for a few seconds longer than you expected -then flicked back to the ground like he'd been embarrassed...? His hand carefully, hesitantly, drifted off your shoulder.

Before you could even open your mouth, the man cleared his throat and turned back around the way he came.

"Daryl-" you began, turning back to the other man. You weren't sure what that was, but you weren't going to just leave it like that.

"Go," he hummed, unbothered, as he carefully plucked a few arrows off the ground, "-I'm not as stupid as you think."

You rolled your eyes, relaying to comment on that later in the back of your head and trailing after Rick. He was actually pretty quick, despite the unfavorable footwear, but you somehow managed to catch up.

"Rick," you spoke, tone direct and stressed out into the meadow air.

He stopped in his place, a bit stunned it seemed, as he stood still. There was definitely something wrong, you could feel it. In a breath, you wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling it to you behind him. He still hadn't faced you -facing straight ahead with air to him you'd only seen once or twice in your time knowing him.

"Are you alright?"

Rick didn't respond immediately, stance shock still. You watched as his shoulders huffed out breaths, the smallest rise and fall being the only thing you could focus on. His wrist was warm in your hand, and you felt your fingers rubbing gentle circles into the skin there -in an effort to soothe something you didn't know the root cause of.

His eyes flicked back to you, much softer and something more familiar to you -shining in a haze you couldn't identify, but had experienced yourself. (Merely hours before actually.) They flicked to your hand and then your face, almost in realization that you had made that point of contact.

"Shit, sorry," you pulled your hand back, tone a bit rambly, "-I didn't know if you were comfortable with that, I should've ask-"

"No, no," he echoed, pulling your hand back just to match it with his -intertwining your fingers, "-it's fine, better than fine. I am."

"Oh," you swallowed, watching now as he faced you -his own thumb cradling against the back of your hand that sent your brain into a bit of a fog, "-okay."

Rick grinned the kind that crinkled at his eyes then.

"I-" you began, suddenly remembering what you'd run after him for -blinking the fuzz out of your brain, "-you still didn't answer my question, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah-" he enunciated, eyes hanging on your hands for a second, "-I'm good, promise."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Great, even," he responded, thumb dancing against your skin and your brain almost flatlined again.

"Then," you pursed your lips, "-what was that back there?"

"Nothing," he answered back, a little too quickly for your taste, "-just curious."

"Rick-" you started, before locking onto the way he held your hand. It was the same one that Daryl had been holding just a second earlier, and your mind lit up with the flicking of his eyes to the touch, the set of his jaw, some internal dialogue between the two... oh my god.

He seemed to notice the difference in you, his own eyebrows raising in response to your change in demeanor.

"Cowboy," you hummed, daring only to look at your intertwined hands, "-were you jealous?"

Rick stilled in his place, the thumb frozen in its cycle and the breath caught in his throat. You could practically see the thumping of his heart in his chest, watching as the pink flooded up his neck -he totally was.

"Rick," you added, a little in disbelief.

He hummed, seeming to be unable to speak and his eyes lazily focused on your intertwined fingers. You found it kinda cute, actually.

"Rick," you continued, "-look at me."

He sighed, deep in his chest, the curls at the nape of his neck catching the sunlight just right. He looked pretty like this, like a painting. And finally tilted his face to meet yours -fingers squeezing your hand and thumb rubbing against your skin, his eyes were a bit distant then.

You reached your other hand up to the side of his face, trailing your fingertips along his cheekbone -the cut that you'd once been drawn to now under your fingertips, "There you are."

His breath hitched, as you brushed a few stray curls back behind his ears and let your hand rest against his skin for a few seconds longer. You could feel the heat bubble up there, as you focused your attention there -trailing along the now scab and up along the crinkling near his eyes. You smoothed them out with a few timid presses of your skin to his; it seemed so natural, so familiar.

Rick seemed in a trance almost, eyes dipping down to yours without much thought, like a sort of bliss. You wondered how long it had been since he had his face cradled like this, how long he'd missed the gentle brush of fingertips. Even just for a brush of contact, he seemed unable to speak, the air heavier in between the space than you'd known it to be before.

"Trust me when I say," you hummed, eyes straight into his -unflinchingly, "-you have nothing to worry about."

You noted somewhere deep in your head to do little things more, as you leaned back -pulling back your hand to your side but keeping the other one steady in his. Rick still stayed silent, eyes wistfully watching you fall back into your own space; he'd looked a bit conflicted. So calm and breathing peacefully, all the while his heart seemed to beat 100 miles an hour out of his chest.

Definitely cute, you decided.

"With that out of the way," you cleared your throat like you hadn't just crossed millions of boundaries that you'd established with him, "-I think you have some plans to make. You ruined mine, after all. It's only fair."

He laughed, eyes hooked on your hand in his and it was different then, you could feel it in the buzz of the air, "It's only fair."

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #the nurse #nurse!reader #doctor!reader

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cult-of-the-eye · 1 year ago

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Mag 81 A Guest for Mr Spider

FUCK FORMER HEAD ARCHIVIST

Wait I need to check the timelines - this was 2 days after leitner's death

New spooky music???

My man is so fucking dramatic I love him so much "grand of sand behind my eye" love the way he speaks

Yeah FUCK JURGEN LEITNER

Omg the greying hair is canon??

Child in the 90s makes him at most 27 GOD DAMN. I was imagining like mid 30s...can you imagine a fucking 27 yr old using words like "ilk" when talking to you

Oh shit he's an orphan poor guy

Yeah ok a lot of his personality seems to make sense if you realise he was raised by his grandma

You know those memes that are like people raised by their grandparents are exceptionally polite but in a brisk way, talk fancy and are super posh? Yeah that's him.

Getting such neurodivergent vibes

Yeah he sounds like a main character from the start Jesus Christ he's such a kid who got traumatised and then grows up to be a horror protagonist vibes

My First Leitner lol like kids had to be introduced to them at a young age like those my first toys

He's so funny I can just imagine him as an 8 yr old getting super like affronted at this like how dare my grandma think I am of subpar intelligence he's such a little bitch from the start

"The eponymous Mr spider" even talking about his childhood trauma he's busting out the vocabulary

Fuck that story actually kinda rattled me I had my hand over my mouth in shock for most of it

I think it was the bit where the horsefly brought his son and they were both crying that got me, I could definitely imagine it scaring an 8 yr old

The way it drags out as well, with the pages of the same scene it really heightens the suspense

Is his childhood bully someone we should keep track of?? Love how he says Michael probably cause he sees him as a bully lol

It's interesting how despite him bullying him (quite badly seeing as though he beat him up) he's still like yeah but he saved my life and that means he deserves to be remembered

My bro didn't save your life on purpose, he was just trying to make it worse and happened to come to a terrible fate cause of that

I guess underneath it all he was still a kid who watched someone die, knowing they'd get eaten by a fucking spider, he still held him in some regard

The way he specified the guy was his bully even after he was being eaten though lol

He was desperate to get the book back? That's a leitner thing I guess, the book makes you want to keep it so it can finish whatever it wanted to do to you

On my relisten (which I will do once I've finished the series I'm sure of it), I'll have to look out for any reaction of leitners name

I wonder why Jon didn't react more to Carlos vittery's statement, like it must've terrified him? I saw a post a while back explaining Jon's thoughts and IT WAS GENIUS it was like of course he doesn't react, he must be terrified that someone knew about his experience and somehow did this to mess with him or it was a joke and he can't let anyone know that the Head Archivist is not Good at This ugh it's so good I'll tag it if I can find it

AHHHHH HE REGRETS DISMISSING THE OTHER STATEMENTS AHHHHHH

HE FINALLY ADMITS THAT HE NEEDS HELP WE LOVE THIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT YES YOU FUCKING DO BITCH.

yeah at least he's right about Elias killing leitner

GEORGIE THE EX GIRLFIEND

ITS SO WEIRD TO SEE HIM ACTUALLY NICE TO SOMEONE WOW HIS VOICE CHANGES SLIGHTLY AS WELL HES LESS ACADEMIC

THE ADMIRAL

Awwww he's so cute with georgie

GHOST PODCAST GHOST PODCAST

THE WHAT THE GHOST T SHIRT IS CANON???? AHH THATS SO CUTE

Can he not go back to his own flat?? Did he bring all his clothes to the archive and then subsequently leave them there? Does he even have a flat??

God Georgie is so nice I would kill for her

It's so funny that an apparent supernatural cynic dated a ghost podcaster

WOW SEASON 3 OFF TO AN AMAZING START I CANT WAIT TO KEEP LISTENING IM GONNA TELL MY THERAPIST ABOUT THIS TOMORROW!!!

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #jarchivist #a guest for mr spider #the web #tma season 3 #georgie barker #tma georgie #jurgen leitner #what the ghost #the admiral

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jungle-angel · 1 year ago

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First Day Funny Business (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You had hoped that even though it was Amy's first day of school, that she would sleep in

A set of tiny little feet padded their way into your shared bedroom, hurrying with excitement. Rhett was still snoring the morning away covered only by the thin bedsheet and the turned down covers at his feet.

Amy bounded into the room, practically jumping right on top of Rhett and eliciting a groan from the deeply sleeping cowboy. "Daddy! Daddy! Uppie!" she cried. "Uppie! It's almost time for school!"

"Don't wanna go to school, Pumpkin," he groaned. "Ten more minutes."

"Mommy says you gotta get up," Amy informed him.

Rhett jokingly laid his dead weight into the mattress as Amy tried to pry him off of it, herself in turn, rolling off the bed with a yelp and a loud thump onto the floor, taking most of the bedsheet with her.

"Shit!" Rhett hissed when the cold air from the air conditioning hit him along with the realization that he was still in his tight black boxers. Thank God he hadn't been naked......that would have had Amy either asking questions or running around telling the differences between men and women.

"Alright Doodlebug," Rhett yawned. "C'mon downstairs and eat."

A madly giggling Amy raced down the steps with Rhett trailing slowly behind until he found himself in the kitchen with you. "Good morning Frankenstein," you joked, turning over the apple cinnamon pancakes you had been cooking.

Rhett grunted in response, doing his best Frankenstein impression before rubbing the grog off his face. He kissed your lips before grabbing a plate and sitting next to Amy.

"You excited sweet pea?" he asked, digging into the pancakes.

"Yeah," she chirped happily.

You listened to Rhett going back and forth with Amy, the two boys in your belly kicking up a storm at the scent of the pancakes and the chatter in the kitchen. Hannah, your two year old, came waddling in a minute later with her pink blankie and her hair sticking up at weird angles. Rhett lifted Hannah into his lap and kissed her pretty little cheeks, making her giggle as the stubble from his jaw tickled her sensitive skin.

"Alright, Doodlebug," Rhett said when he noticed the time on the digital stove clock. "Eat that last bite and then go get dressed."

Amy scarfed down the last bite of her pancakes and hurried upstairs to go get herself dressed. Sure as shit, she had picked out one of the outfits you and Rhett had gotten for her, a pretty little dark grey t-shirt with a big turquoise butterfly on it and the cute little denim shorts with the lacy trim around the legs. Amy even managed to get her little brown gladiator sandals onto her feet which flapped all over the hardwood floors in the halls.

"C'mon princess," Rhett told her, opening the door to the truck and buckling her in. He set her backpack down on the seat beside her, happy that her blanket and her circus clown plushie were already in her bag.

Rhett helped you in a minute later once Cecelia had come to look after Hannah. She gave Amy a kiss and wished her good luck and so didn't Royal, snapping a few pictures before the three of you had to be off. Amy waved to her grandparents until you had gotten all the way to the bottom of the driveway and turned onto the road that would only be a short, fifteen minute ride to the school.

"You good to go for today?" Rhett asked you.

"As far as lessons go? Yes," you told him. "Physically and mentally? That's debatable."

Rhett chuckled a little, finally pulling into the little Waldorf School that lay right in the middle of the woods, just up the path from the main school where you taught. Rhett had known almost every single teacher at the place whether it was from having to repair farm equipment, deliver calves and foals in the middle of the night or even from bartering with one another, Rhett knew almost the entire teaching faculty.

Rhett parked in the dirt lot and helped you out first, making sure you weren't hindered by your bump. Amy jumped out once she was unbuckled and the three of you walked right up the path to the little building where Claire O'Donnell was waiting for her.

"Good morning Miss Amy," Claire greeted cheerfully, shaking Amy's little hand. "How are you this morning?"

"Good," Amy chirped.

"Come on in sweetheart," Claire told her, shooing her inside the building to see her other teachers and classmates who were just beginning to arrive. "Now here's two other faces I haven't seen all summer."

"Claire, how are ya?" Rhett greeted, shaking her hand.

"Wonderful, wonderful," she laughed. "Listen, Rhett, Brian was asking if your father still had a gas can for us to use? The tractor has no fuel and we couldn't get downtown to get any yesterday."

"Yeah, stop on by whenever ya'll get a chance and we'll lend you some," Rhett answered. "Chances are, it'll either be me or Wes Redwood ya'll see out front."

"Oh thank you, you're an absolute lifesaver," Claire answered. "And just know that if you or your family need anything from us in return, just ring the doorbell and we'll do the same."

You and Rhett both bid her farewell before saying one last goodbye to Amy, Rhett and her forming a little heart with their hands before he walked you up the path to where the grade and high schools were located.

"Don't work too hard sweetheart," he said before he kissed you.

"You know I won't," you teased him before heading off.

The realization that Amy was finally in preschool didn't hit him until Rhett was driving home and Cecelia saw him step outta the truck with tears in his eyes.

"You ok Grumpy?" she asked him.

"Can't believe Doodlebug's growin up," he croaked, hugging his mother.

"I know sweetie, I know," Cecelia chuckled. "First days are always toughest."

Rhett laughed and followed his mother into the house to gather up whatever he needed for the day and to go help Wes. He left the house, heading for the truck once more to make his way over to the Granite Trail Reservation, turning only to see his mother and Hannah standing in the window, waving goodbye. Rhett didn't need to really hold back his emotions, but felt immense pride in his family, just as he was always meant to.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #amy abbott #royal abbott #cecelia abbott #royal x cecelia abbott #outer range

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cainnleacghlovers · 2 years ago

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Champions League Final - MM

pairing: mason mount x fem!reader

summary: Y/N’s going to her brothers match. Funny if there was a cute boy sitting beside her. Really funny…

Pulling your hat over your hair that you’d spent hours curling, you checked yourself once more in the mirror. Satisfied with your outfit. The impulse buy of the north face jacket, definitely worth it… maybe.

“Y/N get down here!”

Your mum shouts up the stairs. Another look in the mirror, and you were grabbing your phone, and you were away down the stairs, practically flying down. Your brother was playing in the Champions League Final today. Real Madrid vs Liverpool.

Your entire family was the living room, and by entire family, you meant everyone. From first cousins to grandparents, from girlfriends to nephews. From third cousins to people you weren’t even sure you were related to. But hey, free football?

Your brother scrolling through his phone with a bored expression.

“Right. Let’s go then.” You say, everyone turning to face you.

“Took you long enough. Bet you have ‘Alexander Arnold 66’ on your back, you traitor.” Your brother jokes.

“He may be 66, but I know another number we could…"

“Right! Cars everyone. Who’s going with who?” Your dad interjects, not wanting you and your brother to hate each others guts before your brothers big match.

—

Moving into your seats, you think being a SAS (sister and sister, something you’d come up with, being jealous WAG’s got nicknames and sisters didn’t.) you’d get better seats. I mean they weren’t bad, but the leg room? Not good. The seat on your left being free.

Another family came in, decked out completely in Liverpool gear. Awkward. They clambered over the clan of you. You did the awkward, ‘i’ll move my legs as much as they’ll go but you’re going to have to squeeze in’ movement, and they eventually got settled. A boy sat beside you, and you gave him a smile, one he returned brightly. He had a pretty smile. A really pretty one. He looked up at your hat.

“A Madrid supporter then.” He said, you couldn’t place his accent, but it was cute. He was cute. His dopey brown eyes eyeing your hat.

What could you say that was flirty but wasn’t flirty. Challenge him? Compliment him? Kiss him?

“A Liverpool supporter then.” You countered, gesturing to his t-shirt. It was 2 degree, and he wasn’t wearing a jumper? Weirdo. A cute weirdo at that, but still. Weirdo.

“I have a friend playing.” He replied, looking at your whole family.

“Oh look at you with connections. You’re the Lily Rose Depp of football.” He clearly didn’t get the nepo baby joke, embarrassing…

“Are you here for anyone?” He asked, his eyes scanned your face. He knew you from somewhere. Why did he know you?

“No one specifically.” You replied. It wasn’t a lie, but you never liked telling people who your brother was. It sucked that people treated you differently when they found out who he was, found out who you were.

The announcer spoke, revealing the teams were in the tunnel and ready to come up. Tightening your hat, you turned to the boy beside you.

“May the best team win.” You stuck out your hand from him to shake it. An excuse to touch him? Pfft nope… He took it, giving it a firm shake.

“I’m not nervous.”

—

The game was intense. With Modrić and Salah both finding the back of the net. You knew your brother would be disappointed with the goal, he’d saved tricker goals before. Salah just tapping the ball over where his glove could reach. Half a dozen bookings and colourful language later, the whistle blew for half time. Both teams stalked off frustrated with the result.

Your family grimaced when they seen Zidane have a word with your brother. You knew he’d complain about him later.

“Y/N, do you want anything darl?” Your mums voiced caught you out of your trance.

“I’m okay mum. Thanks.” You have her a smile, as half the stadium evacuated, ready for a drink. You wouldn’t turn one down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your seat. The boy sitting beside you might have something to do with it.

“I like your accent.” His voice caught your attention. Turning to face him, you flashed him a grin.

“Oh thank you! I think it’s kinda annoying.” You weren’t lying, you’d been told your accent ‘went through people.’

“It’s nice.” He nodded, not sure if you received the compliment as his shy attempt to flirt with you.

An awkward silence fell between the both of you. You smoothed your leggings down, and he played with the collar of his t-shirt. You seen the goosebumps on his arms, should’ve brought a jacket. Weirdo.

“Do I know you from somewhere? You’re oddly familiar.” Given that you were the spit of your brother, it was probably that.

“I think you’d remember meeting me.”

That was bold, and under no circumstances would you have ever thought you’d say something like that. It wasn’t in you to be cocky. Your parents making sure they raised humble kids. Tell your brother that. Ugh. Footballers.

Unable to meet his eyes, you waited a response. Felling his gaze on you, you decided your trainers were far more interesting.

“I think I’d remember too.” He mumbled under his breath. A blush spread to your cheeks. Maybe you should be bold more often. Go on Y/N, say it. You know you want too.

“I’m gonna go get a drink. Wanna come?”

He smiled, and patted his thighs.

“Sure.”

—

Waiting in the line, you scanned the options.

“This is embarrassing, but can you tell me the options. I forgot my glasses on my seat.” He laughed. Oh god, he laughed. Good thing or bad thing?

“Yeah no bother. Fanta, Coke, Sprite…”

“Where we watching the same match? Read out the alcoholic ones.”

He laughed again. Butterflies erupted in your stomach. If you could bottle his laugh, and listen to it again and again. You definitely would.

“You’ve got your standard beers, tonics. I think you’re a gin girl.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, and you met his eyes.

“Absolutely. I hate vodka. Oh is there pink gin.”

He nodded, and gave the person behind the counter your order. He tapped his card, and before you could complain, one hand (a really nice hand. like really nice.), took the drinks and the other steered you out of the crowd.

“How much do I owe you?” You said, reaching into your handbag to find your purse.

“Not a pound darling. My treat. It’s Mason by the way.” He gave you a wink, and you blushes. That seemed to absolutely raise his ego, you could practically see his head growing. You didn’t even realise you hadn’t asked for his name.

How. Frickin. Rude.

As you were walking back to your seat, you felt a tug on your arm, turning around to be met with a little girl. Her big eyes shining up at you.

“Laura honey. Don’t bother her now.” A man said, you assumed it was her dad. He tried to pull her away, but you smiled at him to say it was okay.

“Can we get a photo? Please?” The little girl said, and with those big eyes, how could you say no.

“Hiya darling. Of course we can.”

You crouched down to her level, and flashed a big grin at the camera as the little girl replicated your grin.

“I wanna be like you someday.” She said, making you blush.

“And you’ll be miles better than me.” You said, giving her a smile.

“Can i show you what i’ve been doing in my classes?”

“Absolutely! Give us a twirl.” You grinned genuinely at her. Little kids were so cute.

She span, and you clapped. Giving her a whistle.

“Man I wish I could do that! You’re so good!” You could obviously do that, but the compliment would make her day. She grinned, wrapping her arms around your legs. Her dad plying her off.

You exchanged a few friendly words with her dad, as she waved bye, as did you. When they left, you met Masons eyes with a big cheesy grin on his face. Your stomach throbbed, and you nearly hunched over to stop the intense feeling.

“Y/N S/N.”

He smirked, saying your name. He sounded good saying it. You wondered what he’d sound like moa- nope, we are not thinking like that!

“That’s me!” You said sheepishly, waving your hands beside your head, as if you had something to be proud of. You didn’t consider yourself famous at all.

“The Green Machine.” He knew your figure skating nickname. Something which came about after your olympic performance, representing none other than your home country. Ireland.

“Seems like you know about me Mason.” You decided to play it bold. He’d made you blush enough today, his turn.

“Well when you had an olympic medal at 14, it might make you a tad known.” He said.

“I try.” You said, hating the attention. His eyes stared you down, and you wished you could look him in the eye, but you just couldn’t. Change the subject, now.

“Match will probably start again soon. My dad would never let me hear the end of it if I walked in late with a boy.”

“Yeah. Suppose we should.” You two walked in, your dad seeing you. Raising his eyebrows and mouthing ‘boyfriend?’ You rolled your eyes playfully and sat down, you met your cousins eyes. He made a pretty rude gesture, twisting both of hands in front of his mouth. You gritted your teeth, and gave him the finger.

“Y/N! Don’t make me glue them fingers together.” Your mum scolded you.

“Callum’s sitting doing… he’s doing Callum stuff!” Your cousin was known for that. Absolutely no filter at all.

Your mum didn’t have time to retort, because out came the player. Your brother scanning your section, and you gave him a thumbs up.

—

The second half was even more intense than the first. The clock slowly ticking away, time was running out. Neither team wanted to play extra time. You fidgeted your foot, and groaned with the rest of your family when Hazard put one slightly wide. Plopping down on frustration, Mason smirked at you, pointing to his badge and slapping his chest enthusiastically.

7 minutes stoppage time. Both teams making subs to find some sort of solution.

Trent booted a ball into the box, and you grabbed the nearest firm thing you could. That firm thing being Mason’s thigh. You quickly removed your hand, embarrassed at what you’d done.

“I am so sorry.” You scanned his face to see if that had made him uncomfortable. He only gave you a reassuring smile in return, calming your nerves.

“Don’t worry about it. My thighs there anytime you need it.” He gave you a wink, this boy liked winking.

Before you could retort to his smart ass comment, you felt something being pelted at your back. A shoe. Your cousin had threw it at you, to shut you up. He widened his eyes, and put his finger over his lips, telling you to shush. You made a face at him, and threw his shoe back. You turned your attention back to the game.

Trent’s ball was a good one, but your brother got it confidently into his hands. Scanning for someone to pass too. He found Modrić, and away he was up the pitch. Taking the ball with him, passing and weaving through defender after defender. Out of juice, he passed the ball to Hazard. Hazard booted the ball.

Your entire family stood up in anticipation. Come on! Back of the net!

The ball met a defender on the way there, and the ball went past the goal line. Wide.

“HAND BALL!” Your entire family screamed. Yourself using some colourful language. Madrid shirts, as well as Liverpool ones surrounded the referee. He made a box signal, signalling for VAR.

The entire stadium went quiet. Everyone waiting anxiously for the referee to come back from checking. Here he came.

He pointed his hand up. Penalty.

The entire stadium erupted. Both shouts of happiness, and cries of uproar from the Liverpool fans.

Alison tried arguing with the referee, but he stood firm on his decision. The ball was placed in Hazards hands, as he made his way to the penalty spot.

“Come on Hazy. Back of the net.” You didn’t know where the nickname came out of, you just felt a personal touch might help him more.

The entire stadium stood still, the whistle breaking the eerie silence. Hazard kicked the ball.

Back of the net.

Madrid had won! You jumped up and down, celebrating with your brother.

—

You were on the pitch after, taking photos with your brother. You seen Mason slapping Trent on the back. So that’s who his friend was. Awkward.

He seen you, and jogged over.

“Well. Good game.”

He shook your hand, and you laughed.

“My brothers going to be absolutely insufferable now.”

“He is good, to be fair.” Mason said, obviously a fan.

“All we’re gonna hear about is that save. I can already hear him.” You groaned.

“Well he might have saved the goal, but could you save the tomorrow?”

You laughed out loud at his horrible pick up line. Wait no, that’s rude. Stop laughing. You did that awkward cough to stop laughing.

“Are you asking me on a date?” You smirked.

“Maybe.” He grinned shyly. His eyes soft, as they met yours.

“Well i’ll have to check my schedule.” You said, trying to make him sweat, knowing it was nothing to him over than humorous. “Looks like i’m free.”

He smiled, and you weren’t sure if you should kiss him or give him a fish bump. Maybe a high five?

“Well i’ll see you tomorrow then.” You said, trying to be mysterious as you walked off. Leave him wanting more, you know. As you were walking off, you realised you’d need his number. You backtracked, embarrassed.

“Can i get your number?” You said.

“Course you can.” He said, giving you his number as you put it into your phone.

“Perfect. Message me about tomorrow then? I wanna see what you’ve got planned.”

“I think you’ll like it.” He winked, yet again. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, as you went off with your family.

Your brother came up to you, his daughter, your niece is his arms.

“Juniors got game then.” He playfully shoved you, using the nickname you absolutely hated.

“Shut up.”

He wrapped his arm around you, and you felt content. Life was pretty good.

AHH! first post!!! I hope you all enjoyed! Let me know if you want a part 2! Leave your requests!

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #footballer imagine

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bells-of-black-sunday · 2 months ago

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𝑺𝒑𝒖𝒌'𝒔 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒔

Comfort food(s): Poptarts, hearty soups, seafood, bread. Probably the entirety of "Hometown Buffet" it was a place in town I'd always go to with my Grandparents after church on Sunday even though modernly I don't care for buffet places.

Comfort drink(s): Earl grey tea, green tea, strawberry Boba tea. The boba is because me and my friends always get it every time we hang out in person and it's always a nice time even if it's getting rarer.

Comfort movie(s): The Nightmare Before Christmas, Halloween, Sharkansas Women's Prison Masscare. Look... hear me out. I enjoy a really bad shark movie as long as they have charm, Sharkansas is so fucking funny and it never goes the way you'd expect it to. How'd the sharks end up in a women's prison? Well that'd be a spoiler—

Comfort show(s): My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic, Gravity Falls, Midnight Mass. Quite a strange combination, but yeah I could talk for hours about any of them.

Comfort clothing: Big oversized sweaters, nice fitting button-ups, over sized t-shirts. I still dress like an edgy teenager, so it's all black and like band or horror tees.

Comfort song(s): Too many to list, but I listen to a lot of Red Vox in general, since they've been a favorite of mine since I really started for form an opinion on music beyond what my parents listened to.

Comfort book(s): Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, uhhh... I don't read as often as I should. Blame bad highschool teachers and a bad depression during that period.

Comfort game(s): I play a lot of "cozy games" for comfort, mostly because I can put a podcast or something on in the bg. I've been playing a lot of Ranch of Rivershine, Dreamlight Valley, and Paleo Pines, but RoR is all I can really recommend out of those 3. Dreamlight's devs do not keep their promises and you basically have to pay 70$ for a full game and Paleo does not feel finished at all and needs a lot of work, it's not worth 40$ I got it on sale and still felt like I bought an early access game. I've been enjoying a lot of Darkest Dungeon 2 recently though, but four people go into that dungeon and five come out mad, so it's hit or miss for comfort.

Tagged by: @mxlevolence (thank you!!)

Tagging: Uhhh idk who hasn't been tagged, just steal it from me

#ooc #i have too many game opinions sorry- I also rlly need to read more but man... highschool rlly did things to me #and reading is a skill i need to exercise beyond tumblr writing and fanfic

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serialkirah · 7 months ago

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i'd like to tell a story that not a lot of people in my life know about

it's about how the anti-trans movement and a family business ruined my relationship with my grandparents.

so, i'll start at the beginning, and i'll try to make it brief, but it's all kind of important.

my grandfather started a business when i was born, in 1997. it took quite a few years until it took off. it was a lot of hard work. i won't say exactly what it is, because then this post loses it's anonymous touch, but it's a farm that sells something unique (not weed, ok).

when i was growing up, i begged my grandfather to work there. i wanted to make money, and i wanted to spend the summers at my grandparent's house. they finally let me work there when i was 12.

back then, i was a little girl in a workplace dominated by men. there were porn calendars in the lunch room, even. i fell behind a lot, as most of the men working there were tanks, but i liked doing my part as there were really only four of us back then. i worked every summer.

i liked spending time with my grandparents. my grandfather even back when i was a kid always had white hair - the stress of running this farm sucked all the pigment out of his hair. he has a dark skinned tone, a gruff look about him, and he's fairly short (as the rest of his family, myself included). he's the type of guy who loves being outdoors; clearing the land, hunting, fishing, tapping maples, landscaping - that kind of thing.

my grandmother has always had dark brown hair, and even now looks fairly young for a grandmother. she keeps her hair shoulder length, usually tucked into a ponytail, wears the same black tshirt and capri pants or blue jeans almost everyday, and she's always been into interior design, decorating, flower arrangement, crafting and gardening.

i loved doing things together with them. i could be outside all day burning grass with my grandfather, then spend the evening painting furniture with my grandmother.

my manager at the farm was my uncle, my grandparents son. he was my favourite person, and he was such a great boss. he was this tall, big guy who always wore a leather vest, black t-shirt, and ripped cut off blue jeans and these huge black boots. he was a metalhead, so intelligent, and effortlessly funny and charming. i grew up without my dad in my life, and at some points during my childhood, my mom and him lived in the same building and shared a car, so he's always been someone i was close to. in 2007, he had a baby, and at some point, since my baby cousin and i were always together, i had begun calling him "dad" - i even called my own mom "auntie" a lot! not all the time, just when i talked to my cousin. he's sort of a sibling, more than a cousin.

as the years went by, my uncle relied on me even more. i became his assistant and began helping him with the business side of the farm. my grandfather sat me down when i was about 16 and asked if i'd like to take over the farm. his son didn't want to take it over, and i seemed competent and interested. i decided to go to college for this very niche industry, and to do that i had to go away to the only college in my country which had a program dedicated to it.

the year i left for college, my uncle died from a heart attack. my whole family was devastated, my cousin was left without a father, and my grandparents never really got over it. he was their golden boy, the guy they relied on to run the complicated side of their business, and it took a toll on their personal lives as well as their business. my grandparents took custody of my cousin.

it was difficult to overcome the deep depression i experienced after his death, and i even neglected my studies that year. it was like losing a parent to me. if it wasn't for the friends i made in college, i probably would have had a much harder time. but i obtained a graduate certificate in 2019, in the end.

around this time, i also came out to my grandparents as transgender. i was starting my transition from female to male, and i wanted them to be aware it was happening. i've been out to them since 2017, and to my other friends and immediate family i've been out since 2014. they took it like the average grandparent would, confused and uneducated, but they managed to swallow their opinions and accepted that it was going to happen. it did involve me striking for a few months, but they eventually needed my help when the pandemic started, and they asked me to come back to the farm. i assumed the position of manager. i moved into company housing, just down the road from work, and began working full time.

it was a difficult adjustment to become assistant manager to a manager that had passed away and didn't leave instructions. even though i had gone to school for this specific industry, i hadn't gone to school for business administration, so i was essentially taking over business duties with no training. i had to teach myself a lot, or learn from other colleagues. my grandfather was a knowledgeable man in business and farming practices, for sure, but when it came to technology, accounting, traceability, compliance, human resources, auditing, inventory, resource management; he needed help. even though i became his right hand man during this time, running the business alone for a few years took a severe toll on his health and in the beginning of 2020, he was diagnosed with cancer.

he had to take an extended break while he was receiving treatment. and i was there to take over his duties. even before he took a break, i was doing everything from audit prep to inventory tracking, environmental data collection to representing the company at conferences, media appearances to health and safety training, guided tours to project management. now, i was also in charge of all daily operations, scheduling, communication, and a team of eleven people. on top of that, i joined a board of directors for an association related to my farm. the very business that turned my grandfather's hair white in just a few short years was now turning my own hair white at 23.

that's all to say - i think i was doing very well. my coworkers and i got along very well, and everything always moved smoothly. but enough was never enough for my grandparents, and i was constantly berated for everything i did.

i think the stress of losing their son with the addition of the cancer diagnosis caused a negative change in my grandparents. over the course of three years, the same people who i loved spending every summer with became aggressive, argumentative, sarcastic, mean-spirited. i started spending more time at my own place rather than eating supper with them almost every night. i skipped afternoon coffee and long talks with my grandmother, because i couldn't stand listening to her increasingly manic religious rants about how nobody has morals these days, they just do whatever they want. i stopped talking about anything other than work with my grandfather, because he started becoming increasingly aggressive and indignant whenever he wasn't caught up on daily activities at the farm, and especially so when i had everything handled correctly. he was able to overcome his cancer, and was declared cancer free. he decided to rebuild his house, so he still took time off, but would still come to the farm to get angry about this or that.

i was becoming so stressed that i would call my mother every other day to seek advice. i started to wonder if my grandfather was ever going to retire and let me run the business without his constant surveillance and micromanaging. i was so stressed that i started psychotherapy to attempt to balance both my emotions and career.

then, i fell in love with the girl that worked at my local coffee shop. i had asked her to hang out as friends at first, but she was the one who kissed me first. we began dating in january of 2023, and she changed everything. she was there to help me understand that getting screamed at everyday for unimportant things wasn't normal. that working 7 days a week for three years with no days off wasn't healthy. that forbidding me to take time off to see my friends, do anything fun, or even spend my free time making art was incredibly fucked up.

finally, in the spring of 2023, my grandfather dropped a bomb on me one day. i had mentioned to him that i was doing really well with the mutual aid program i created for trans youth, and how i'm working with a lgbt youth group in town, and like a man possessed, he began spouting off about transgender people. yeah, i just don't like those transgender people. those men are always cheating by winning women's sports. and they beat women up did you know that? if women don't let them into the bathroom they beat those women up. they go in there and rape women and kids.

i was shell shocked by this outburst. i had never heard this opinion from him, and it was as if he had this whole rant locked and loaded, ready to spring up when given the opportunity. where did this come from? i asked. it's all over the news, i've seen videos on youtube, it's all true. there was no convincing him. even when i tried to appeal to common sense, or share an empathetic viewpoint. but you know, i'm transgender. obviously, not all trans people are the same. i don't do any of those things, and of all the trans people i know, none of them do that either. i think what you're watching is propaganda. but he insisted that this was real life, and ended up walking away grumbling about it.

i cried to my girlfriend that night. i was reaching a limit that i couldn't exceed. she held me and suggested that maybe i should walk away. i should save up my money, and i could go back to school, and i could do something i enjoyed. i was comforted, i agreed, and i began to plan my escape.

not even two weeks later, my grandfather burst into my office again, and asked, what's all this he/they shit? at first, i was a bit confused about what he meant, but then i realized, ah, you mean my personal pronouns that i use?

he looked so angry, and he had this crazed, unrecognizable look in his eyes - the type of look he would give to people who hurt his family. it terrified me. yeah, whatever, it's in your emails, take that shit off of there, it doesn't belong in business emails. i could feel my anger rising, and my throat felt tight, but i still managed to say it's my email signature, so that when people call me or address me, it's the way i want them to, just like my first name. it's not a big deal, everyone does it. you don't have to have one with your email signature, but i include mine because it's important for communication.

i don't give a shit. you're a she, your name is -----, you do that on your own time, but you need to be professional. take it off your emails. i stared back, shocked and honestly frightened. i could say yes, i'll take my pronouns off my emails, then i could apologize and continue working there. but something in myself would die.

no, i said.

no? he repeated.

no, and this conversation is over. i closed my laptop and brushed past him. he sputtered and screamed at me to take it off my emails, but i ignored him and went home.

i discussed it with my therapist, my girlfriend, my mother, and my sister. i decided to suggest therapy to them. three days later, i sat both my grandparents and my mother down. we were outside, sitting on a patio set facing each other.

i tried to talk about what happened, and after hearing the way they ranted about transgender people, how they were bad people, how they were sinning, how they didn't want pronouns in their business, how i was ruining their business by doing so, how i was using them in order to gain more support for my mutual aid that helps trans youth, and how i'm not respecting them, i suggested family therapy. they rejected the idea, and became even more indignant.

i stressed that forbidding me to use my proper pronouns and my correct name (which was a legal name), was against the law, and they said they didn't give a shit about the law. what are you going to do, sue your own grandparents? my grandmother scoffed at me. no, but if i was anybody else that you were doing this to, they could sue you, and they would win. at this, she got up from her seat and began ranting about how disrespectful i was being to my grandparents. she grabbed my wrist and yanked me around while she yelled, and raised her hand to smack me.

now, i want to pause here and explain something. obviously, this is an extreme reaction. it's also a common reaction from my grandparents during arguments. i know some may baulk at the idea of your grandparents or parents using corporal punishment, but it was a common thing, and sadly, it is part of a larger issue - intergenerational trauma caused by residential schools. i don't think i've mentioned it yet, but my family and i are native.

much of my family grew up in the residential school system, a schooling system ran by the catholic church and the canadian government for indigenous children. this system was mandatory, and parents who tried to hide their children were punished by the law. it's main purpose was cultural genocide, and the nuns and priests that ran the school physically, sexually and emotionally abused native children. many kids died from experimentation, neglect, malnutrition, unsuitable living spaces and were also murdered. the rate of death at these schools were so high that they had cemeteries on site, and many children were buried in unmarked graves. in that environment, my great grandparents survived those schools with many wounds, and had their own children sent to these schools. this is also where my grandparents went to school. they didn't need to send their own children there as they moved away to the city in the late 70s. but even some of my mother's friends had gone to residential school. in that regard, my grandparents have been deeply damaged by the system and by their upbringing. they're emotionally stunted, they resort to screaming instead of communicating, and their last resort is to lash out, sometimes physically. it's not right, by any means, but i just want you to understand that there is more under the surface.

back to my grandmother. she's ready to strike me, she's got my wrist, and i've just had enough of this. the way they've responded so far is beyond unreasonable, and any call to common sense is lost on them.

i slowly slackened my arm away from her personal space and into mine, opened my palms in a relaxed way, and pulled them behind my head softly until she let go, then put my hands in my lap and softened my face, and said, hey, let's stay in our seats. she knew that i was attempting to de-escalate the situation, felt insulted, and lashed out verbally instead. she jabbed a finger in my direction and spat, you trans people are all the same.

with that last sentence in mind, i turned to my mother, who had sat silently in tears the entire time. i don't think this is going to work, i said to her.

then why don't you quit! my grandmother yelled from her seat.

my grandfather said, fine, _____ either you do what i told you to do or quit.

i turned to my grandfather. so as your manager, if i don't let you break the law and violate the conditions of your 3rd party certification, i have to quit?

my grandmother's voice was hoarse, and she was repeatedly screaming in the background, so they don't you quit! why don't you quit! quit then! we don't need you!

i maintained eye contact with my grandfather. are those your feelings as well? not just her feelings?

he was struggling to look at me. that's the way i feel, too.

i stared at him for a few seconds while my grandmother continued to scream and rant. finally, i said, okay. this is my two week notice. but you only have two weeks to change your mind - after that, i'm gone.

i wish i could say that he thought long and hard over the next two weeks, and decided that he had been too much. i wish they decided to reel in their opinions for the greater good of their relationship with their family. but their business (and their religious views i suppose) was ultimately more important to them. in two weeks, i set up another manager with all my tasks - properly, the way i should have been - and left.

my grandfather urged me to move out of the company housing within those two weeks in not so many words. my grandmother suggested i move far away, and told me not to tell anyone what happened. it was seconded by my mother, who believed telling everyone would be unprofessional. i was scared and uncertain, i decided to lie to everyone and tell them i quit because i wanted to go back to school, or to change my career. i had to move in with my mother, two hours away from my girlfriend, and i had to sell my truck to afford my car payments. it was very difficult to overcome the rift in confidence the whole thing caused me, but eventually with the help of therapy, my girlfriend and my family, i slowly gained that confidence back.

now, i'm slowly opening up to more people about what happened. eventually, i will tell everyone, but not as a way to bring my grandparents down. i don't want to be like them in that way. i want to tell people when i feel okay again, when i feel confident, and when i have more stability in my life again.

i've been able to move into a house that i rent with my girlfriend, my sister, and my sister's boyfriend. we're creating a fun and colourful space to live in, a place where we feel good. my sister is going back to school and my girlfriend and i are looking into it too. after a long break, i'm also resuming activities with my mutual aid program. i've also joined the board of directors at my city's pride activity planning non-profit organization. lots of exciting stuff.

i'm going to be 27 in about a month. i spent 14 years working for my grandfather, and although somedays it feels like a huge waste of time, i still have a bunch of skills that i otherwise wouldn't have ever learned. i only wish it translated to a better paying job in the city, haha.

when i think about what my grandmother said, you trans people are all the same, it doesn't fill me with as much hurt as it did that day. cuz now i think about all the wonderful trans people i've met in my life and i think to myself - yeah, that's okay. if trans people are all the same, let me have the same kindness, the same humility, the same bravery, and the same forgiveness. because at the end of the day, i value those things far more than i would ever value money or ego.

i hope this story wasn't too boring. i know i'm just one of thousands, maybe millions of trans people that go through the same stuff everyday. but i appreciate being listened to, so thank you. if you want to be friends, follow me! i'm trying to use tumblr more often.

see ya! :]

#transgender #trans joy #trans #lgbt #2slgbtqia+

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doublegoblin · 5 months ago

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max. hi max :3 i need to know. i gotta. i know what his jamas are but i neeeed to know his casual and his cosy wear. please..... <- was looking at a funny picture and started thinking of his wife. as per ususal

Like I said, I had to double check which one ya meant lol, thankfully I had assumed the right one and thought about it.

His normal attire is usually comprised of-

His beanie

A watch on his right wrist, it's been busted for a while but it has sentimental value (gift from Grandparents). He wears it on the underside of his wrist, so like, instead of looking at the top of his hand to see the time he's look at his palm.

Some kind of graphic T-shirt (Black, Maroon, seafoam green, Gray are his usual go to's) in the colder seasons same kind of idea but it's a long sleeve.

No matter the time of year, black denim jeans that have a hole around the left knee. The legs of the jeans are frayed where he's rolled them up. These are like the only pants he wears, like, he only has one pair, but he does do his laundry pretty regularly so he doesn't have them on for like months at a time.

Colder seasons he will put on a sweat, he's not really much of a hoodie guy but he will wear them when really cold out.

Shoes, he wears chucks (Orange with white trim, like an orange creamsicle)

This man doesn't have a cosy wear, it's formal, casual, or pjs

#Kel logs

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waru-chan8 · 1 year ago

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Your breakdown of who speaks Catalan is very interesting. What was shocking to me was how you said how Rinsy speaks Catalan. He was born in Barcelona so I would’ve imagined it’s the other way around with favoring Catalan more. But I can understand why Spanish is more favored. Also with Dani, I feel like he knows so many languages(as far as I know it’s Catalan, Spanish, Italian, English, and I know there’s at least one clip of him speaking French), he picks one for the day like picking out a shirt

I know you listed several regions that speak Catalan, but how common is it that Catalan is taught as a secondary language in Spain?? You said that some can hear it, but respond in Spanish or they respond in a more Spanish way. I don’t know much about Catalan, but it’s been fun learning a bit about it via MotoGP

Nope Rins speak the way he speaks Catalan because HE IS from Barcelona. Basically the "pure" Catalan comes from outside the big cities.

During the 60s and 70s, there was a massive moviment of people from different parts of Spain towards Basque Country, Madrid (city) and Catalonia, that was the places where the industry was building and expanding, so basically they moved to the big cities. In the case of Barcelona and the surroundings, the was a lot of people coming from Andalusia and Extremadura (South areas of Spain) that, plus the prohibition of speaking Catalan during the dictatorship (1939-1975) made that a whole generation didn't speak Catalan at all. (Fun fact! From a class of 20-24 students only 1 classmate had 4 grandparents born and raised in Catalonia back in early 2000 and I was the only one that had none). Places that weren't so affected by that influx of people kept the Catalan "pure", but not Barcelona. Another factor for Barcelona not having the "purest" Catalan is because it has become and international city, so having to choose between Catalan or Spanish, people will tend to use Spanish because there are more people who learn it.

Rins will end to favour the Spanish-like words and the Spanish sounds of the words when possible or straight up answering in Spanish. I do know that his family is from a close town to the Aragón circuit (Alcañiz) so I imagine he does speak Spanish at home rather than Catalan, which is fine I do the same. Favouring Catalan or Spanish just comes from your surroundings. If all your friends/family/teachers speak Catalan, you will speak with them in Catalan. Altought there's something funny going on, people do not call names in Catalan because how the language has been treated over the years, it's becoming kind of a "cult" language, which make it difficult to joke and make fun of your friends when you have to use words like "Calçasses" instead of an cabrón (asshole).

Yeah, Dani speaks a lot of languages, and most of the time is self-taught (or at least I remember he said that some time ago). I have hear him in Catalan, Spanish, English and Italian. I think there a video of him speaking French and I think he lives in a French speaking area in Switzerland, so he can choose and jump between several languages. But I think it ultimately comes to whom is he speaking. I think he spoke Catalan with Marc and Italian with Vale or any other Italian rider. I think with Pol is depending if there's a third party involved to choose between one or another.

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Here Dani speaking some Japanese.

I only mentioned the areas where is spoken in Spain. Catalan is also spoken outside, in Andorra (where is the official language and the only country that has Catalan as an official language), Northern Catalonia (which is the South of France) and Alghero in Italy. Or at least that is what I have been taught since I was a child.

In Spain, school starts at age 3-4 years old (we go by all the students born in the same year go t the same grade and school starts in September) until 15-16 years old. I can only speak from my experience in Catalonia, but we where taught most of the subjects in Catalan with the exception of Spanish (Grammar, vocabulary and literature) and English. We also had a classes to learn Catalan grammar, vocabulary and literature). There could be some wild teacher who decided to do their classes in Spanish for some reason, but it was not the norm. Even at University, most of my professors did classes in Catalan, although they could choose the language.

At university I had classmates from Menorca and from Valencia and they both spoke Catalan as their first language, so at least I know they had Catalan as a subject, what I don't know it's it the rest of the schooling was done in Catalan or Spanish.

Catalan has 2 big "dialects" (Western and Easter) and several smaller ones. You can actually know who is from where they are or where they have been taught by the way the speak their vowels, and some consonats. Like for example, Maverick who is from Gerona (another area from Catalonia) speaks much more softer than Pol or Dani (who again has one of the most amazing Central dialects I hear). And they speak different than Marc, who is more harsher due to the lack of a neutral vowel sound (it's in between a and e sound because he speaks a complet different big dialect).

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Rins speaks Barceloní, which is the dialect spoken in Barcelona and the area and surroundings and one of the characteristics s actually the influence of the Spanish in the way the pronounce it. He also uses Spanish terms because he thinks in Spanish and then he translates, so sometimes his word choice is not the correct one, but it's okay, we understand it.

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One of the reason why people would no answer in Catalan when asked something in Catalan is because they don't feel confident when speaking it. As I said, Catalan is becoming a "cult" language, reserved only for some spaces and kids are not using as much as before. It doesn't help that over the years it has been persecuted, banned and discredited.

In the case of Jorge Lorenzo, who actually say he learnt it, but doesn't speak it, it's due to his chaotic education he had. He missed a lot of school to go racing, at some point he moved from Mallorca to Barcelona (which are 2 different dialects) and I remember he say his dad made him choose between school and racing at some point. I think Jorge doesn't feel confident enough to talk it, so journalist just ask in Catalan because Jorge is okay with that (because the polite thing would be to switch to Spanish, which is done with other people).

I hope you can see all the videos. I know you won't understand them,, but at least you can see some differences in the way they talk.

If you want to know more about Catalan, I recommend the blog @useless-catalanfacts they know more about the differences and how is taught in different parts of Spain. There are also resources to learn Catalan too

#Ask #Victoria's tag #Languages #Catalan #Long Post

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ysabelmystic · 1 year ago

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Top 5 worst times you got into trouble as a kid.

Ohhhh man this is gonna be a hard one to answer because undiagnosed ADHD and Autism does not mix well with authoritarian bullshit. Plus, the stuff I got away with is generally worse, a lot funnier, and more extensive. But here's 5 things I can think of off the top of my head.

I caused several thousand dollars worth of damage because 2-year-old me decided that our rented house's white carpet needed an introduction to my mom's red nail polish- color theory hospital style. Thankfully, our landlord was my mom's best friend, and after several cleaning attempts, she decided to eat the cost. I only know about this because both of them bring it up at least twice a year.

From ages 6-9, my parents forced me to do this stupid church soccer club thing because my dad was obsessed with soccer and my brother was practically a soccer prodigy. I didn't care for it one bit. We always had to rush dinner to make it to soccer practice on time, so in my head, I figured that if we couldn't eat dinner, we couldn't make it to soccer practice. We were having spaghetti that night, and you can't have spaghetti without sauce, so after a lot of unsuccessful crying, begging, and pleading, I took the whole pot of spaghetti sauce and dumped it on the floor. I avoided soccer practice, but I also got ultra-grounded for a month. All I had in my room was a mattress. Everything else was taken away. And that's when I discovered the power of dissociative daydreaming, and I can now mentally check out of any situation at, and against, my will! (My mother has since apologized, but also I am the reason I will never have biological children lmao).

Here's a funny one. On their anniversary weekend, my parents left my brother and I with my grandparents on my dad's side. This had its pros and cons. On the one hand, they had a pool, and never supervised what we watched on TV. On the other hand, that set of grandparents wouldn't let us skip church, and they went to a different church. It didn't even have a Sunday School. I was about 9 or 10, so I was deemed old enough to pack my own suitcase. I purposefully brought along my most raggedy yard clothes, thinking that would get me out of going. Come Sunday morning, I learned that unfortunately, cargo shorts and an old t-shirt did not grant me an exemption, so I had to come up with something else. After getting my brother and I fed and dressed, my grandparents went off to attend to themselves, leaving the both of us unsupervised. Their mistake. My brother and I went out into the backyard to play catch while we waited. It was then that I had an idea. My brother was about 7, still young enough that he would do just about anything I asked him, so it took him about 5 seconds to convince him that it would be both hilarious and fun if he jumped in the pool, fully dressed in his good church clothes. My grandparents were fucking piiiiissssssssed. My brother didn't have any spare clothes so my grandma had to throw everything in the dryer while I got the "wait until your parents come home" speech and a TV ban for the rest of the day. However, when my parents found out, my dad thought it was so funny that I pretty much got away with it. Oh, and we still had to go to church. We made it to the last 30 minutes of service.

My mom's contribution: I was taught about Jackon Pollock in kindergarten and inflicted my newfound splatterpaint skills upon our white cabinets, the kitchen walls, and the hallway. There's a theme with my crimes. My artistic expression could not be stopped.

I earned my first formal exorcism because I had the audacity to ask what happened to the fish during The Flood. "They didn't need to be in the boat" Well Sharon what about water salinity? How did the fish not die from the change in water chemistry? Did Noah have wooden fish tanks? Did someone have to go to every country to get the fish and a sample of their native waters? Anyways, because I was like...8, this was a sign that I had Demons, and this required them to drag me into the hallway and spend the next 30 minutes dousing me in anointing oil and demanding that Satan leave my body. Yeet!

#ask #religious trauma

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sakurachan7734 · 6 months ago

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Love in my dreams and In real life to

Chapter 4: park date

Saturday at 3:12 pm

Zachary: so why can’t we go on Sunday? It would’ve been less crowded.

Aristotle: definitely but I have church tomorrow

Zachary: ah ok

Aristotle: but what did you want to do here?

Zachary: just walk around and get to know each other more

Aristotle: ok

Zachary: so do you have any other family members besides your sister and dads?

Aristotle: well apparently I do because my father said that in to months my extended family and grandparents are coming over you?

Zachary: nice! All I have is my grandmother and sister my mother died during the birth of my sister and my dad died in a car crash a year later

Aristotle: oh I’m sorry to hear that

Zachary: it’s fine it was when I was 11

Aristotle: ok do you want to come over to my house after this?

Zachary: your dads will be ok?

Aristotle: they won’t home until 11

Zachary:* blushing* will we be home alone or will your sister be with us?

Aristotle: we will be home alone

Zachary: what are we going to do?

Aristotle: watch TV probably

Zachary: what kind of shows?

Aristotle: something funny and get your mind out the gutter I could see the look on your face

Zachary: sorry sorry

Aristotle and Zachary go to Aristotle house and Zachary sits down in the living room looking around the room admiring the victorian Gothic style The entire castle is well Aristotle was in the kitchen getting some tea

Zachary: you have a very nice house

Aristotle:* places a tea tea down* thank you my dads put a lot of effort trying to make it look perfect

Zachary: I can tell

Aristotle: why don’t you have some tea while I go get changed

Zachary: ok

Aristotle pov

I head upstairs to change out of my dress, pants and my boots into some comfy shorts and baggy T-shirt and I was correct this is the boy I saw in my dreams and he is exactly what I saw if not better then when he was my dreams i know it’s weird changing clothes while somebody is here but that my dress my pants and my knee-high boots get really uncomfortable after a couple hours

A few minutes later Aristotle comes back downstairs and sits next to Zachary

Zachary:* chuckles* I thought you were joking when you said that you had bird feet and hands

Aristotle: nope I wasn’t! My father said that his side of the family are a special species of animal where they are half human half animal my fathers parents are part crow

Zachary: ok I thought you couldn’t take the mask off?

Aristotle: oh I can because while we were in Florida, I cut my own mask off

Zachary: how did you do that?

Aristotle: oh I pored rubbing alcohol over my face stole my father scalp and cut it all off

Zachary: Jesus dude are you OK?

Aristotle: yea my father bandaged up my face a minute he got home and kicked down the bathroom door

Zachary: oh good thing you’re OK

Aristotle:* leans against Zachary* I know I’m surprised I’m alive

Zachary: yea anyway you look nice

Aristotle: thanks sorry if I was gone for too long it takes forever to take my dress and makeup off

Zachary: no it’s fine

Zachary and Aristotle sat together and watched some tv until Aristotles parents came home and they snuck upstairs to Aristotles bedroom

Zachary: wow you’re room is amazing

Aristotle: thanks* sits down on their bed*

Zachary: is your bed comfortable?

Aristotle: yea it is you can sit down if you want

Zachary: ok why do you have human biology posters all over your wall?

Aristotle: oh it’s something I do in my spare time

Zachary: what do you mean?

Aristotle: well do you remember yesterday that I brought a dead fog back to life? Well my father taught me how to do that!

Zachary: oh that that’s impressive

Aristotle: I know right

Florence:* from downstairs* ARISTOTLE I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU INVITED SOMEONE OVER WHEN WE TOLD YOU NOT TO!!!

Aristotle: you should probably go

Zachary: ok

Zachary climbs out through a window and starts running to his apartment

Zoe: so how was your date?

Zachary: don’t call it a date we just want to the park and hanged out at their house

Zoe: how was it like inside that castle?

Zachary: it was really pretty I didn’t for the entire castle maybe next to go over I can look around

The next day at Jackson cabin

Jackson: soo what happened yesterday?

Zachary: nothing special we just hanged out at the park in their house but I had a feeling that they were trying to make a move on me and I am to stupid to notice

Jackson: well what were they doing?

Zachary: well they were leaning really close to me they invited me into their room

Jackson: i’m no relationship guru or anything but definitely kind of sounds like that they were trying to get you to do something, but don’t jump to conclusions

Zachary: I know but I still feel like a idiot

Jackson: I can see why

The next day at lunch

Aristotle: hay I’m sorry for acting weird yesterday I understand if you were uncomfortable

Zachary: nah it’s fine you probably don’t invite anyone to your house over often so you probably got really comfortable being yourself with me immediately

Aristotle: good I had a fun time yesterday I would love to hang out more!

Zachary: me to!

Jackson: hay sorry to ruin the mood over here. You guys wanna go to that concert next month?

Aristotle: yea what kind of concert?

Zachary: my favorite band called “ eyes beyond the hate” they are really good!

Aristotle: what kind of band are they?

Jackson: metal!!

Aristotle: like heavy metal?

Zachary: no do you want to come?

Aristotle: I would love to! What day?

Jackson: Sunday the 10th

Aristotle: oh I have church that day……. But I could skip this is the first time I have friends!

Jackson: you didn’t have any friends in your old houses and country’s you lived in?

Aristotle: no everybody where I used to live found me scary and since I moved so much, I didn’t see a point in trying to make friends

Zachery: then we can get you a ticket!

Aristotle: oh no I can pay do buy in person or online and is Charlie coming?

Zachary: in person and yes Charlie is coming we’re gonna try disguise him as human

Aristotle: ok how long is the concert?

Zachary: starts at 12 and ends at seven

Aristotle: ok thanks for inviting me

Jackson: anytime bird face!

Aristotle: don’t call me that again

Jackson: sorry

End of chapter

#scp foundation #scp #scp containment breach #scp fan child

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