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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

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Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 9

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

When she wakes, she momentarily can’t place where she is. The room is dim and there’s a soft whirring sound, a warm body tucked close against her back. Mulder’s apartment, she remembers. They’d decided to make it a double feature, collecting their clothes and switching out Mars Attacks for Twister. She must have drifted off at some point, with Mulder spooning her on the narrow couch, and the automatic rewind on the VCR kicked on when the movie ended. She pulls in a deep breath and his arm around her waist tightens momentarily.

“Stay,” he croaks from behind her, sounding as though he had also fallen asleep.

“I can’t, Mulder,” she replies, twisting her body around to face him, her nose pressed into his chest.

“Why?” he asks, brushing his palm up and down over her back.

“Because, I shouldn’t.” She knows her tone isn’t all that convincing.

“Says who?” he asks, though not indignantly.

“Says…I don’t know. Me, I guess,” she replies in a defeated tone.

He sighs, then pauses to consider his words.

“I don’t want to pressure you. But the idea of not seeing you again for a week kind of makes me want to die.” His words are soft and measured, communicating honesty, not frustration.

“That’s very dramatic,” she answers with a teasing lilt.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m pathetic.”

She worms up until she’s close enough to kiss him, pressing her lips to his cheek and then his mouth.

“You’re not pathetic,” she says tenderly, “you’re actually very sweet. I’ll make you a deal; I’m not going to stay the night,” she quirks a smile at his dramatic frown, “but we can get dinner tomorrow, and if you want to have coffee one day this week, you can come down.” She gives him a hopeful smile.

“That seems like a fair deal,” he says, kissing her forehead. “But if you get home, or wake up in the middle of the night, and realize you’ve made a horrible mistake, just call me. I’ll come right over.”

“I promise I will,” she says, then disentangles herself from his arms and collects her purse and shoes. She says goodbye to Priscilla, then bids a very long and very kiss-filled goodbye to Mulder before he finally releases his grip on her. As she waits for the elevator she hears the patter of his bare feet on the hallway floor and turns to see him skittering towards her, pulling her into one last kiss before he runs back to his apartment door, waving at her with a coy little smile.

Once she’s buckled into her car, she lets out a deep breath. She’d barely made it out of there; if Mulder had asked one more time, kissed her once more on the couch, she might have caved. Might have stayed the night, and might have done who knows what else. She can easily see the strong potential for this budding relationship to fast track to being more serious than she feels ready for, and it scares her. She’s never felt this strongly about anyone so soon after becoming involved with them. Clearly he has a strong pull on her, given that she cheated on Ethan with him, it’s just a lot, and she’s a person who likes to think clearly and make rational decisions. When she’s with Mulder, she loses the ability to think rationally.

When she’s home and tucked into bed, she does wish he were there, curled up behind her. Knowing she could call him and he’d be here in fifteen minutes is tempting, but she talks herself out of it. Not yet, not until she’s sure that this is more than just animal attraction. More than wanting to prove she didn’t destroy her relationship with Ethan over nothing.

It has to be more. And she suspects that it will be.

———

“Okay, spill it,” Missy says, and Dana looks at her with a mildly shocked expression, not even having fully taken her seat at the cafe with a mocha in hand before Missy gets down to business.

“Hello to you, too, Missy. How was your evening?” she asks her sister with a facetious tone.

“I hung around by myself and wondered what kind of action my little sister was getting that I wasn’t, so please, indulge me.”

Dana laughs and shakes her head, debating how much detail to give.

“It was nice, we just watched a couple movies, ate pizza, drank beer.”

“...and?” Missy asks expectantly.

“...and, we watched Mars Attacks and Twister,” Dana answers, knowing that this is not the information Missy is asking for.

Missy drops her head to the side with a frustrated glare. “Dana, quit being a prude, or I’ll just make up my own story and tell it to you right here in the coffee shop, I know you’d love that.”

Dana makes a face. “Okay, fine. Yes, we...fooled around. But we didn’t have sex.”

“Really, why not?” Missy questions incredulously.

“Missy, it’s not that abnormal not to sleep with someone on the second date,” Dana retorts with an annoyed tone.

“It is if they’ve already gone down on you and you’ve been obsessing over them for almost a year,” Missy shoots back.

“Well, regardless of your unsolicited opinion,” Dana replies, “emphasis on unsolicited, I’m choosing to wait a bit, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Fine, whatever floats your boat, Sis. Please elaborate on ‘fooled around’.”

Dana scoffs. “We...kissed, and some other things. Why are you asking for all this detail, Missy? I don’t recall you ever asking me to be this explicit regarding my sex life with Ethan.”

Missy rolls her eyes. “I’m willing to bet Ethan was into missionary with the lights off. This Mulder guy has serious sexual energy, he seems like the kind of man who knows what he’s doing. When’s his birthday?”

Scully frowns at the memory. “October 13th,” she answers flatly.

Missy shoots her a surprised expression, but suppresses it quickly. “Oh, wow, okay. Um, so he’s a libra. That’s a good thing, libras are very generous lovers.”

“I have seen evidence of that, however my pants stayed on last night so nothing to report in that respect,” Dana answers, taking a sip of her coffee to avoid looking at her sister.

“But his didn’t?” Missy asks with a smirk, and Dana purses her lips but doesn’t respond. It’s as good as saying yes.

“Dana Katherine Scully,” Missy teases with a knowing smile. “Some things never change.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dana asks defensively.

“Oh please, Dana, we went to the same school, you don’t think I heard the story about you and Marcus behind the gymnasium?”

Dana’s mouth hangs open in shock.

“Well, I hope he enjoyed his favor being reciprocated nine months later,” Missy continues, then adds “did you swallow?”

Her mouth drops open wider and she slaps Missy gently on the upper arm. “Melissa, don’t be gross!”

Missy is giggling and swatting her away. “You know what Dad always said, Dana, ‘a Scully sees it through to the end!’” She crosses her arms over her face in self-defense as Dana peppers her with little slaps, though they’re both laughing.

Finally, the tittering subsides and they are both back in their respective seats, catching their breath.

“So when are you seeing him again?” Missy asks, tucking her feet underneath her legs.

“Tonight, actually.” Dana answers self-consciously.

“Oh really? So soon?”

“Well he practically begged me to stay the night and said he didn’t want to wait until next weekend, so it was somewhat of a compromise,” Dana answers, the arrangement sounding like a red flag to her own ears.

“Dang, he’s got it bad,” Missy remarks with a little frown. “Is it too much? Are you doing that thing?”

“What thing?” Dana asks defensively.

“That thing where you get overwhelmed when someone is really interested in you and you sabotage it?” Missy ventures.

Dana furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t do that,” she says, but her tone suggests that she may not believe herself. “I just don’t want to get all caught up in the excitement of a new relationship and not look at things objectively,” she finishes.

“You know,” Missy says helpfully, “that exciting new relationship, not thinking clearly, crazy in love feeling is something most people like, Sis.”

Dana shrugs. “You know me,” she says plainly, “I’m not really one for excitement.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that Mulder is going to put that to the test,” Missy retorts with a smile, and Dana cringes.

“I think you may be right.”

———

Her demeanor when he picks her up for dinner seems just a bit guarded and is markedly different than it had been when they parted ways last night. He brushes it off, figuring that things between them are still new and awkward, and recognizing that he’s probably coming on just a little too strong.

The day has been grey and cool, and she’s wearing jeans and an oversized blue sweater, her hair pulled half up into a little bun. He smiles warmly at her, but stops short of telling her how amazing she looks, sensing that she might not want to hear it. They make their way to a little Mexican place near her house and she is polite but quiet as they order, munching on chips and salsa with a pensive expression.

“Are you okay?” he asks cautiously, and she nods. “I’m freaking you out, aren’t I?” he adds, and she shakes her head gently, but looks at him with wide eyes from beneath her lashes, and he knows it’s true.

He sits back, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Is it the sex part or the feelings part?” he questions, and when her eyebrows lift in surprise he suggests “Both?”

She laughs softly and shakes her head. “It’s really not you, Mulder, it’s me. I’m just not very comfortable with the whole,” she swirls her wrist around in the air, “whirlwind feeling, when things are new.”

He leans forward on his elbows and looks at her seriously. “Tell me what you need me to do differently, Scully, and I promise I’ll do it.”

“Maybe just...don’t act as though I hung the moon?” she offers with a pained expression. “I’m just a human person like anyone else, faults and all. It makes me worry that when you really get to know me you won’t like what you find.”

He gives her an amused smirk. “At the risk of further idolizing you, what’s not to like?”

“You want me to write a list?” She asks, returning his smirk, and he gives her a half shrug, half nod. “Well, if I’m basing this on what my family, friends, and past partners might say; I’m very rigid in my thinking on most matters, take myself far too seriously, am emotionally distant much of the time, don’t really know how to have fun and...I cannot carry a tune in a bucket. Basically I’m a total stick in the mud.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, smiling at her. Her self-consciousness is wildly endearing.

“Okay now you have to go,” she says, picking at her paper napkin.

“Oh, what are my worst qualities?” he clarifies, “Jeez, this could take a while. Um, I’m very singularly focused, as in whatever I’m chasing down at the moment I become completely obsessed with to the detriment of all other things in my life,” he casts her a little glance to confirm that she understands that this is what he’s doing with her, which she does.

“I’m a workaholic, though that’s a lot easier to manage when I’m not all that invested in what I’m working on. I’m terrible with things like birthdays, anniversaries, or generally sentimental things, I just forget them completely. I’m also persistent to a fault, and have a hard time letting things, and people, go, even when I should,” he looks at her again, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile. His worst qualities are the ones that are at risk of scaring her off right now.

“Well then, perhaps,” Scully offers, “I’ll work on not trying to shut you out, and you can work on not trying quite so hard to get in.”

“We’re still talking about feelings here, right?” he jokes, and she rolls her eyes.

“There’s another flaw I forgot, making jokes at completely inappropriate times.”

She smiles at him, with teeth, and he knows they’ll be okay. He needs to be mindful, but he hasn’t totally fucked it up yet.

The rest of their meal goes without incident. He talks about spontaneous human combustion while she calmly explains why it’s medically and scientifically impossible. The way she can disagree with him without talking to him like he’s a lunatic endears to him even further, but he works hard not to let it show. When the waiter comes by and asks about dessert, she shakes her head.

“I have ice cream at home,” she says after the waiter leaves, “saves us five bucks.”

He masks the surprise and delight he feels knowing she’s essentially just invited him back to her apartment, and absolutely does not allow himself to hope that she’ll let him stay the night. It’s a work night after all, and she’s just made clear that she has a tendency towards rules and guidelines; sleepovers on a school night seem like something she’d be against.

Back at her apartment, she gives him a quick tour, having neglected to do so when he was here last week, and he’s impressed though not surprised by how grown up and clean her place is. It matches her personality perfectly, and that makes him like the place immediately.

She opens the freezer and pulls out a pint of ice cream, then retrieves two spoons and hops up on to the counter, which brings them just about face to face height-wise. The cold blast from the open freezer has hardened her nipples and he avoids looking as they pass the pint back and forth, taking alternate bites and talking about their favorite and least favorite flavors. Soon enough, the tub is empty, and she sets it and the two spoons to the side, leaning back against the cupboard behind her. He steps closer into the space between her thighs and places his hands gently on her hips.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks in a neutral tone, not wanting to sound like he’s trying to persuade her.

She quirks her mouth to the side in consideration. “Maybe not just yet,” she says, then hooks her legs around the backs of his thighs and pulls him closer.

He suppresses a victorious smile and instead leans forward to kiss her, simultaneously slipping his hands under the hem of her sweater. She jumps a little at the contact, and he realizes how cold his fingers must be from the ice cream. He pulls his hands free, rubbing them together briskly in the space between their bodies as he continues to kiss her smiling mouth. When he’s satisfied that they are warm, he returns them to her bare sides and she hums in approval. Her hands find the back of his neck, scratching through his hair as his fingers trail their way up the ladder of her rib cage until they meet with the soft underside of her bare breasts. He wants to make mention of the lack of bra, but isn’t sure if calling attention to it would make her self conscious, so he says nothing and just enjoys it. Brushing his thumbs along the seam where chest becomes breast, he moves to kiss down her neck, teasing at the skin behind her ear with the firm tip of his tongue. Finding the spot she seems to like the best, he then runs his thumbs up until they meet with her hardened nipples and she emits a little moan that goes straight to his dick. He stays on this particular combination of rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger while licking and kissing her neck until she’s tightening the grip of her legs around his hips, seeking friction. He pushes the fabric of her sweater up slowly enough that she has plenty of time to tell him if she wants to stop, but once her breasts are exposed and his mouth is wrapped around one of her nipples, he is absolutely sure that she doesn’t. She lets her head fall back against the cupboard, breathing hard through her open mouth. He brings the fingers of one hand to the button on her jeans, then pauses.

“Okay?” he asks around the nipple between his lips, and she hums out an “mmmhmmm.”

Flicking the button open and easing the fly down, he slips his hand palm-up under her panties, drifting down through her neatly trimmed hair and into the slick heat of her. She’s deliciously wet, and knowing he caused it makes him feel weak in the knees as he rubs his groin against the edge of the counter, even more turned on than he had been before. He slides his fingers up and down over her swollen lips, his tongue still lapping and sucking at her nipples alternately, and she is panting and quaking beneath him, hips writhing and fingers digging into his neck telling him that she wants more. He circles his dampened thumb around her clit and she whimpers, clutching his head to her chest. His middle finger finds her entrance and swirls around it, not quite entering, and she stills, waiting, anticipating. When he continues with his same teasing movements, she lets out a frustrated breath and speaks.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice pained.

He smiles against her breast, slipping his finger inside, and she moans low and long, throbbing once around him. He experiments with different ways of touching her, inside and out, and soon she’s gasping and breathing raggedly, flexing her hips into his hand, nearly suffocating him with her breast in his mouth and he feels like he’s in heaven.

“Oh god,” she moans, then goes still for a long moment as he feels her walls clench tight around his finger. Then she’s coming, throbbing rhythmically and pulling his face up to kiss her, pouring her blissful moans right into his open mouth and clutching him as close as he can get with one hand in her pants. Finally, she touches his wrist gently and he pulls his hand free, enveloping her fully in his arms as they kiss with just as much passion as they started with.

“That really wasn’t what I had in mind when I suggested ice cream,” she says against his mouth, and he smiles, breaking the kiss.

“So that wasn’t some kind of ‘dessert’ double entendre?” he asks, pulling back slightly and looking at her flushed cheeks and still-dilated pupils.

“No, but I’m not exactly devastated that you interpreted it that way,” she replies with a playful lilt.

“So...what now?” he asks cautiously, neither wanting to overstay his welcome nor do what Frohike delicately calls ‘hit it and quit it.’

She bites her lip and considers the question. “You wanna hang out for a bit and watch TV? I’ll have to kick you out at 9:00, it being a school night and all.”

He feels his mouth stretch into a broad smile at the confirmation of his suspicion that she calls it early on work nights.

“Sounds perfect,” he replies, then steps back so she can jump down from the counter, re-fastening her jeans while casting him a mirthful glance.

They snuggle up on the couch and half-watch whatever is on, but mostly they talk, and kiss, and laugh. He finally asks her about the little gold cross necklace she’s always wearing, and he finds himself further enamored with how complex she is; a woman of science and religion, beautiful and strong, smart and fun. He’s working hard to temper his expression of it, but if he was only ninety-five percent sure he was in love with her when he said it back in August, he is one-hundred-twenty percent sure now.

True to her word, she kicks him out at 9:00 and promises that they will get together for coffee this week once she takes a look at her autopsy schedule and knows which days she’s free.

Once in his car, he drops his head against the back of the seat with a satisfied sigh. All week at work, his colleagues will ask him what he’s smiling about, and he’ll tell them truthfully that he’s just really, really happy.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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steve0discusses · 3 years ago

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Yugioh S5 Ep 20: Pharaoh’s Cool New Trick

Digging my way through quite a pile of commission work (funny how these things only come all at once or not at all), nearing the light at the end of the tunnel, was looking forward to some free time to catch up on my many little side projects when I was asked to take off for a weekend to do some cat-sitting to which I would NEVER say no to a cat, so like...Rip this blog I guess, we only update like once a week nowadays, but what do you do?

That’s right, play Puzzles and Dragons! The only phone game worth paying any attention to! Where they just released Pegasus on their Yugioh Collab and he looks pretty great!

So I’m just gonna take a second for some art appreciation, because the Puzzles and Dragons art team is just A++++ honestly, and yes, I did pull 13 times to get a Pegasus in my monster box, and yes, he is a completely insane team leader that is absolutely broken when paired with Yugi (the numbers are so satisfying) but...look at him. He looks so good!

(also I finally got Joey Wheeler, and so now my gatcha cravings are settled. And, don’t worry, I play this game so much that I was there during Christmas when they offered like a bajillion stones for free so I didn’t actually use real money on this.)

Now PAD also released a Weevil and Rex, and I don’t know why, and neither does the art team because they still look pretty good but in comparison to all the mains, they sure do looks like just some shorty guys in some casuals.

though I gotta admit, I want to learn how the hell this art team does swooshy effects, because man, that would make my art so much better to just have flames violently exploding out of all my art. Why am I not doing that more often? I have the technology.

anyway, I didn’t bother trying to pull them. Maybe I’ll accidentally pull them when they eventually release a Duke Devlin. (also, RIP to the fact that Roland will probably never be in Puzzles and Dragons but like...I can only send them so many polite letters covered in stickers pretending I’m some 10 year old child and writing in my broken Hiragana “Roland in PAD?”. Thems the breaks. (They also might not remember who Roland is.))

Shoutouts to the card that Weevil is holding that is censoring this nipple on the booby spider, PS.

So because this is not actually a Puzzles and Dragons blog, and it’s been ten eons since I regularly updated so I could remember episode to episode...where the hell were we?

That’s right, we’re on an island now. This show’s wonderful obsession with evil islands (and spoiler, this is one of the few Yugioh Islands that doesn’t explode at the end. Mostly because Kaiba isn’t here to do it or this place would be cinder)

(read more island stuff under the cut)

Anyway, after announcing “hey guys! Screw islands!” Yugi immediately collapses and without any warning.

Apparently the armor is a big ol parasite, which is something that Yugi is so used to at this point that he refuses to admit that this is a problem. Just normal Muto stuff, refusing to tell anyone that he has a serious illness going on underneath that giant mass of hair.

(the sailor moon vibes coming off this weird orb energy)

Sort of feels like a call back to S1 when Yugi was clearly possessed and everyone else was like “He acting weird to you?” except it’s S5 and everyone has learned to never trust Yugi when he says he’s fine and they are responding like he is about to die. Which is correct.

Outside of the cave falls this scroll that is...glowing, I guess. So they open it up and get a bunch of hieroglyphs that give them the “riddle of light” and like youknow...it’s riddle stuff.

They’re doing this riddle for “wings.” And it’s like...everyone’s monster here has a set of wings or an ability to fly. Every single monster except for I dunno, flaming swordsman? Hell, Yugi himself had two sets of wings when he fused with Dark Magician (which was weird, and I still don’t like to think about what technically was going on there.) But we have to go and get ourselves even more wings.

Weirdly, Joey turns to Tea and does something that in any other show would be completely normal. He was like “you want to stay here with Yugi, don’t you?” and it was the first time Joey has ever actually addressed the fact that Tea and Yugi are close. Uncharted territory. I was amazed at the amount of casual shipping that is happening here. It’s almost like a normal ass relationship.

So the boys decide to go off, and be boys and tackle this themselves. And they shouldn’t have, because Tea is smart for this group, and also has the only healing spell.

Like if you’re playing D+D you wouldn’t typically leave your only healer behind. Just saying.

Also like...Grandpa Muto went with them? I guess he’d have to since he’s the translator but also...kind of weird to leave your grandson dying in a cave, but maybe that’s just the Muto lifestyle.

Do not be fooled by my caps, no one has addressed the Bakura in the puzzle for 3 seasons. I’m starting to think this show will never address the Bakura in the puzzle. Which honestly, that would be hilarious if they made a big deal out of that plot point and then couldn’t use it in the end.

And speaking of plot points that kind of come out of nowhere and don’t make full sense with the continuity of the show--Joey has regressed back to the 4th grade.

Hey show? What?

So like if you love Joey, this is not the arc for you, because this arc he is reduced to a Himbo and nothing else. Straight up didn’t know what an echo is, but is very strong and pretty, I guess.

This inevitably happens with any TV show becuase different people make different parts, and I’ve brought up before that sometimes it feels like some teams only have loose post-it notes of what any character should be like at any given point (ESPECIALLY with Seto Kaiba’s timeline) but like...

...Personally I’m mot so fond of this interpretation of Joey, kind of ignores Joey’s best traits, and makes Tristan look way too smart in comparison (and like I always pinned Tristan to be the Himbo of the group, but maybe it’s because they give Tristan so little else to do?)

And like don’t get me wrong, Joey’s a dumbass a lot of the time and needs to get corrected by his pals...but...to the point he doesn’t know what an echo is? He’s a dumbass in a High School student sort of way, youknow?

Anyway, they get down to this big ravine, and they have to destroy this stone while the light passes over it. Kind of feels like a Breath of the Wild shrine quest, actually. In fact, I think Breath of the Wild recycled the shadow/sunlight pathing quest like 4 or 5 times. (I love Breath of the Wild to death but boy did they run out of ideas at the end there.)

They have to fight a glass monster and it’s kind of like...do you know the game Balls 3D? probably not, but it looked like a bunch of random shapes stuck together like a 90′s animation. They basically went to war with shapes.

Pure Himbo energy, has several pokemon, but punches for his pokemon instead of using them. A power move if I ever saw one.

Youknow that would make pokemon a lot more interesting if you could like throw out your pikachu, and then choose to just physically run up to your opponents Eevee and sock it in the jaw. Raise of hands--I know you all would love a version of pokemon like that. Let Ash Ketchum punch a Ratata.

Bro has informed me that Ash does do something like this in the anime. But I’m not talking about the anime, I’m talking about the video game. Give me the option to physically combat my rival. This is what I want, Pokemon.

They discover a way to break the monolith, and the show thinks we’re like actually 7 years old (because the show is Y7, although I forget because it deals with so many dark themes) so the show is going to hold on to this puzzle for a while...just to fill time. And it’s fine because we gotta switch over to Pharaoh anyway.

Yami has this dream again. He attempts to fuse with Dark magician to overcome the dream, but alas, he is still not strong enough.

Yugi wakes up in this murky cave while Tea is out washing out like...some rag? (he’s also still got a rag, so I guess multiple rags were required for how sweaty Yugi is.)

Yugi says “I feel like I’m a new man!” a lot in this episode, and every time he calls himself a man like he’s some sort of adult it’s very funny to me.

And then this plot lore dropped.

I mean I guess inevitably it had to happen...

But man, end of an era. It was freakin hilarious while it lasted: that Pharaoh refused to read ancient Egyptian because it’s like 2002 and he is a High Schooler living in Japan and he actually doesn’t WANT to resolve the mystery of the puzzle. Maybe the people who made this arc don’t know about how in S2 and S3, the fact Pharaoh couldn’t read Marik’s back tatt was like...a really big issue. He couldn’t read the God card, he couldn’t even read that massive tablet that read “HEY PHARAOH THIS IS LITERALLY YOU”. KAIBA had to tell him how to read the God card for him. Freakin Seto “Magic is a lie” Kaiba had to tell him how to use the God Card because Pharaoh couldn’t read it.

But like...Pharaoh finally gave in at some point after the world was devoured by the Leviathan, and before Kaiba finished building Kaibaland (which was already built in S1 but wtv)

The timelines on this show have always been a mishmash...but this one is just like...

...show are you trying to convince me that at any point in this show after season Zero, Pharaoh had any idea what he was doing? Did he sap that brain energy straight out of Joey Wheeler so he could do this?

Wow.

(secretly hoping he forgets how to read Egyptian after this arc is over and the show goes back to the other development team)

Pharaohs reasoning is that, if this is the riddle of the light.....

....then where is the riddle of darkness????????????

and when Tea was like “Pharaoh that is not even remotely logic. Omg it’s so bright outside, lets go back to gross cave.” and Pharaoh was like “Tea! You got it!” and she was like “What the hell are you talking about?”

Not gonna lie, I saw the Orichalcos green, and I got concerned.

Anyway, Yugi gets very frustrated and was like “ugh, lets go save em. They’re gonna die (again.)” and marches down there as if he didn’t pass out an hour ago.

And he fuses with Dark Magician again while everyone else (including his grandpa) was like “Yugi are you freakin kidding me? The suit freakin kills you omg! Tea you had one freakin job!”

And then we get the plot twist that...I mean it makes sense but it was choreographed in a confusing way.

And out of no where this guy shows up again:

So this mysterious man shows up and says “If you don’t succeed you have to live here forever” which...nice...that would probably save the world a lot of problems if Yami got locked away and took his OP puzzle with him. And then this man also says “if you do succeed you become VERY POWERFUL” and Yami was like. “...”

This whole episode had a theme to it, where Tristan and Joey were trying to prove that they could do things on their own and without Yugi’s help. And honestly...felt a little bit misplaced. Yami’s the same guy who murdered Yugi last season with the Orichalcos so like...

...I mean he is probably more reliable than Tristan who once died and turned into a robot monkey for 10ish episodes.

and then they flew into a glowing door.

Folks, this was wild to look at.

This is wild.

And at this point I closed Photoshop and thought I was done. But then I looked at my timeline on the video and was like...wait...there’s more?

and I’m really glad I kept watching because it went back to Alex, who...is apparently just still at those steps in this haunted ass Pyramid.

Now we’re watching Yugioh.

I forgot for a second when they turned Joey into a Himbo and made Pharaoh literate, but we’re back. I mean...

...look at the liner art on this adult man.

So...I posit the question...has Alex spent the last 2-3 episodes doing nothing but applying eyeliner to his face in the dark? Because he absolutely has. And honestly, the vibe of being in a spooky haunted pyramid with barely any light, just applying eyeliner down the edge of your face...that’s a Yugioh vibe, if I ever saw one.

This arc is wild. Anyway, next episode we do even more fetch quests and riddles? Just going to guess now that we probably will.

(and for those new here, this is a link so you can read them from the top. Which, since we’re in S5, means you got like...hours of Yugioh content to read through. Enjoy the rewards of my weird hobby.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#Yugioh #Yu-Gi-Oh #yami yugi #S5 #Ep20 #It's actually Ep 20 now I was wrong last time #Yugi muto #Grandpa Muto #Alexander the Great #Joey Wheeler #Tristan Taylor #Tea Gardner #TeaxYugi #never thought I would ever use that tag #in this show where they are canonically dating but sometimes it happens #Puzzles and Dragons #Because yes I had to talk about it. This collab is great

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 4 years ago

Text

That One Valentine’s Day Special (Captions)

Anon said: “Hello!! I saw that your wandavision requests are open and I had to request something! I’m so obsessed with Vis right now, it’s very bad. I can’t think of any specific plot ideas, all I know is that I would really love to see some fluffy Vision just head over heals in love with reader. Kisses, cuddles, all that jazz. Thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️”

Anon said: “maybe a request where it’s valentines and the reader and Wanda team up to get really dressed up and make an amazing dinner to surprise Vision, but when he comes home and sees them both he’s so flustered that either like has a shutdown or faints? And then obviously Wanda and the reader panic and spend the evening taking care of him and also teasing him for being so adorable/fainting? Thank you!!!”

A/N: Combined aspects from both of these requests to make an ooey gooey Valentine’s Day special (which got belated because I lost half of the writing when I transferred it from doc to Tumblr post :’D)!

Don’t think this is the type of dressed up you meant but I hope you like it, either way! The type of nightwear I was going for with Wanda was something like this.

Subtitles/Captions Masterlist

Tip Jar

Word count: 7,117

Warnings: Valentine’s Day sap. Lingerie, passionate kissing, and everyone being flirty (nothing graphic). Reader makes a really, really, just terrible pun in order to compliment Wanda. This was edited very late at night, so there might be a few errors.

Tag list: @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend (These were the only two on the tag list who confirmed that they wanted to be tagged in everything WandaVision-related; if anyone else on the Subtitles list does, just let me know!)

~~~

“Hey, Wanda?” You hollered to the woman in the other room. You were standing in front of the mirror in the Maximoff bathroom, adjusting the collar of the somewhat too-big shirt you wore.

“Yes, dear?” Your girlfriend hollered back from a couple of rooms away.

“While I definitely get the why we’re doing this,” you continued, tugging the shirt’s shoulders farther to one side, then back to the other, before giving up and moving onto your hair, “with Valentine’s Day and all, you know--”

Wanda piped up, probably to assure you that she was listening more than anything, “Yes, I do.”

You snorted. “--but is there a reason we’re doing so… much?”

As you spoke, you ran your hands through your hair, ruffling it to give it a bedhead type of look. You faltered a bit when your eyes settled on the ugly scar on your forehead that your hair couldn’t cover without being in a bizarre style. You frowned and dug a finger into the scar tissue, feeling very little other than mild pressure when you did so.

There was a pause on Wanda’s end. “You don’t think he deserves it, working so hard this past week?”

You reeled back, insecurity forgotten, and quickly left the bathroom. You walked down the hall to where Wanda was working on her own outfit in the bedroom she shared with Vision, rambling away, “No, no, no! I mean no as in no, you’re wrong, not as in he doesn’t deserve what we’re doing. Of course, he does! To be completely honest, he probably deserves it more than anyone in town--aside from yourself, of course--but… For example, we did a lot revolving around food and… Vis doesn’t eat.”

There was another pause and you halted by the closed bedroom door, mainly to pick a rose petal from where it stuck itself to the bottom of your stockinged foot but also because you didn’t want to walk in on your partner.

“But Valentine’s Day revolves around food quite a bit, doesn’t it?” Wanda said from the other side of the door. At this point in your relationship, you could pick up pretty easily how Wanda was feeling by her tone of voice. She spoke thoughtfully, which wasn’t all that concerning, but there was a certain edge to her voice that made you worried; she was going to start overthinking and scrapping the entire idea if you didn’t interfere soon.

You tilted your head from one side to the other while considering her statement before giving a nod she couldn’t see and responding, “I suppose you’re right there. Lots of holidays do, now that I think about it. Thanksgiving? Turkey. Easter? Candy. Christmas? Just… food in general.”

You glanced around as you spoke. You couldn’t see much of the house from where you stood in the hallway but you knew what to expect when you walked to the main part of the house. All of the house’s lights were off, save for a few lamps that washed the house with what would have been a low, cozy, get-comfortable-before-bed sort of light if Wanda hadn’t used her powers to turn the lightbulbs in said lamps from yellow to a red; because of this change, the dim light gave off a much more romantic energy that fit with the rest of your and Wanda’s decorating. Red, pink, and white rose petals were scattered all across the floor, starting from the front were, where Vision would be when he walked in after work and making a trail to different rooms of the house. One path led to the kitchen and dining area, where you and Wanda had spent a good part of the day preparing various sweet, Valentine’s Day- and romance-themed treats plus dinner and setting up the table with candles and flowers and a pink tablecloth that matched the pink rose petals. Another led to the living room, which was decorated in a similar nature. Thanks to Wanda’s ability to conjure, she was able to quickly clean up the area that was usually hidden under a mess of baby equipment, change the color of the throw pillows and blankets to the correct red and pink theme, and even had “floating” heart decorations that danced across the ceiling on transparent strings; the babies themselves were gone for the night, safe under Agnes’s care once she and you had been able to convince Wanda. Finally, a rose path, accompanied by ceiling hearts, led down the hallway until it made a fading stop at where were you currently stood, leaning next to the bedroom door. The bedroom itself wasn’t decorated and neither of you had really talked about the assumptions that could be made from looking at the trail, but what you had discussed was how many romantic movies Wanda was going to project onto one of the walls after dinner while cuddling would most certainly take place on the couch.

The third path was mainly to guide you down the hallway while Wanda greeted Vision from the kitchen. It was also to lead Vision to go change into his own set of comfy pajamas when you and Wanda would ultimately have to push him to do so after him grumbling about too tired to do so.

Poor thing, you thought while pushing yourself away from the wall.

Being the company’s fastest and best worker, Vision had become victim to Mr. Hart doubling his workload and as a result, the gentleman had been working like a dog for the entire past week. His days had consisted of getting up way too early only to go into work and be worked to the bone, then come home and relieve Wanda of the babies--regardless of her assuring him that she’d be fine while he rested--until he passed out on the couch sometime later into the night. You’d been surprised, after learning of his synthezoid identity, that he’d need to sleep at all but you supposed anyone would need to recharge after a day like that.

You, on the other hand, had racked up some vacation days and, after a chat with Wanda about the upcoming romantic holiday, decided to add an extra day to your weekend so the two of you could do something nice for her husband. You’d probably regret this on Monday but for now, you were just happy to have spent the day working with Wanda and were hoping the rest of the night went well.

Speaking of the woman, Wanda had been quiet for some time now, other than the sounds of rustling fabric. You decided now was a good time as any to get involved before she decided that she should do something completely different and cause all the previous work to go to waste, so you knocked. After getting a verbal invitation, you strolled in, only for a sharp inhale to almost propel you back to slam into the doorframe.

Wanda was standing in front of a full-length mirror against the far wall of the bedroom, anxiously fiddling with what little clothing she had on. She wore what looked like a bathing suit but was made out of a sheer, body-hugging, baby pink fabric and embellished with a subtle pattern of roses. Her back was turned to you but you could see from the mirror’s reflection that the piece still left plenty to the imagination with a more opaque version of the same fabric keeping her chest, the bit of fabric held snugly between her thighs, and even an upsidedown V-shaped panel that was framed by silky white bands and reached from the middle of her torso to the lower part of her hips covered. This lovely piece, clothing an even lovelier woman, was paired with similarly colored stockings of the same fabric, minus the rose pattern, and you were both surprised and amused by the addition of a string of pink pearls around her neck and one wrist with matching earrings and a pair of white low heels with a bow on the toe strap. Wanda’s hair was styled in loosely curled waves, making it look shorter than it actually was, and pushed back with a headband that could be mistaken for a minimal tiara, which was also embellished with pink-tinted pearls.

You knew that you were staring, flushed, and with eyes almost bulging out of their sockets--you knew only because you could catch part of your own reflection in the mirror, not because you could feel anything other than goosebumps-inducing tingles travel across your body--but it took Wanda laughing softly and catching your eye in the mirror to pull your slacked jaw off the floor and close your suddenly dry mouth. You eventually also tried to speak but not much other than a stammering “Uhhh…” came out and you gave up, instead choosing to scrub your hands over your face so you would at least look away.

Then Wanda dared to ask, “So, do I look okay?”

You stared at her again but this time it was one of disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”

Wanda rolled her eyes and chuckled again at your utter belief before nervously running her hands down along a perfect set of curves. You fully believed she had no intention of torturing you by doing so but here she was, doing just that. If it hadn’t been for the awkward look on her face, makeup-free except for light lipstick and a little mascara, your gaze probably would have stayed with the path her hands made over her stomach and down to rest on her hips. You watched her gaze jump worriedly from one part of her body to the other instead.

“Look,” she continued, “I know I look okay, I know I look fine--”

Fine? Only fine? If Wanda asked you to strip naked and run through Westview while screaming her praises, you would do so without a second thought. Well, you probably would have done it regardless of what she was wearing but you wouldn’t be complaining about the extra bit of help.

“--but ever since the twins were born, I feel a little… hmph… wearing something like this.”

While you couldn’t possibly fathom how she could see herself as anything but one of the most beautiful living creatures ever, but you’d also figured out quite a while ago that she didn’t exactly see herself the same way you did. You chewed the inside of your cheek a bit before walking over and wrapping your arms around her; her own hands settled to rest on top of yours. You rested your chin on her shoulder and met her gaze in the mirror one last time.

“I suppose even goddesses have their insecure days, huh?”

Wanda laughed and rolled her eyes so hard you were vaguely worried about them rolling back into her skull. She lightly slapped your arms but still leaned back into your embrace as she scoffed, “Be quiet.”

“Wanda,” you said, “you had kids. You still look great. You look so good. So, so, so good. Insanely good. Earth-shakingly good. So pretty. Very gorgeous. Amazingly foxy. Incredibly stellar. Your mom body? Could demolish Aphrodite in a beauty pageant.”

You rambled on a bit longer before Wanda was smacking your arms again. She looked more at ease now, though, completely relaxed in your arms with her head leaning into the crook of your shoulder and one ankle loosely crossed over the other.

“Mom body.” She snorted. “Please, enlighten me further about this mom body I have.”

You quickly shook your head and gave her reflection a warning look. “Can’t. If I say much more, it’ll upset the gods. Every single one of them. I’ll be thrown into the pits for all the sinful things I’d have said.”

Wanda’s head fell back as she laughed again; you felt the tickle of her hair against your exposed neck as you grinned against her shoulder. When she settled again, you gave her a serious look, moved your lips to kiss the shell of her ear, then muttered, “But let’s just say you’re a foxy mama in absolutely every sense of the word.”

The woman in your arms erupted with laughter once more, though this time it was short and accompanied by a gentle slap to the cheek. Then her hand rested there, holding your head close as she leaned her forehead partially against yours.

“You and my husband,” she said with a little shake of her head, “and those ridiculous puns of yours.”

You nodded slightly in agreement, then tilted your head to peck her cheek. “That one really was just…”

“Awful?”

“Yeah, no, not good.” You chuckled and reached a hand up to poke her cheek. “Made ya smile though.”

Wanda hummed, squinting at herself in the mirror, then huffed. “I suppose.”

There were a few moments of the two of you just holding each other and soaking up each other’s presence.

Then Wanda just had to ask again, “Do you really think I look okay?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Wanda! You’re so pretty! You’re so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so--”

“You tell me I’m pretty all the time,” she pointed out.

“I have yet to be wrong,” you countered.

She looked herself over again. Tilting her head and glancing up at you from under her lashes, she said, “You could call me sexy.”

“I could,” you agreed, “Don’t want to make you uncomfortable though.”

Wanda raised a brow. “Did I not just say you could?”

You snorted. “Was my foxy mama joke not enough? Do you know what havoc me doing so would release onto the world? Would you want the gods to reject me because of my filthy language?” You leaned your head into her neck while keeping your eyes on hers. You waggled your eyebrows and lowered your voice. “‘Cause I’ll do it.”

Wanda made a face at you, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips in the special, incredibly cute way that only she could. Then she smiled and ruffled your hair slightly. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you calling me sexy once.”

“Oh, nay,” you insisted, “if it happens once, it shall happen a million types! An unholy, unhinged, affectionate monster shall be released from its mortal prison!”

Wanda hummed thoughtfully and made a show of tapping her chin and tilting her head. “Okay, deal.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. Giving her cheek another quick smooch, you said simply back, “‘Kay, you’re sexy.”

She smiled back at you and did a single clap. “Yay.”

“And, hey,” you said, tapping the scar on your forehead, “even if you weren’t a level of beauty that matched an immortal otherworldly being--impossible--at least you don’t have a scar on your face.”

You saw Wanda’s gaze soften in the mirror before she twisted around in your arms to face you. She gently took your face in her hands and your eyes fluttered shut as she leaned up to kiss you directly on said scar.

“I like the scars,” she said softly, “It means you survived something, even if you don’t know what it was, and I’m happy that you did.”

Your eyes blinked back open. “Why?”

“You wouldn’t be here for me otherwise.”

You huffed out a little breath, somewhat involuntarily, and were suddenly very aware of the fact that you two were practically tangled around each other now. You squished your nose against hers in a nuzzle and said in a lower tone, “Lucky you then.”

She dropped her hands from your face to wrap her arms around your neck. She matched your tone and bumped her nose back against yours, tilting her head a bit. “Very lucky.”

It was almost like a mutual decision when your lips crashed against each other.

Having been prone to the feeling of floaty dizziness as a result of your migraines, the feeling itself wasn’t particularly jarring. What replaced the usual undercurrent of pulsing pain, however, was what made this dizziness feel heavenly instead of hellish. When you kissed Wanda, it was like immediate intoxication but instead of booze, it was the taste of the gloss on her lips and the strawberry flavor that still lingered on her tongue from your cooking session earlier that day and the mix of citrusy sweetness from her perfume and shampoo that made you think of candied orange slices whenever you inhaled. You’d always be too busy to mentally describe it while in the moment, far too concentrated on committing whatever part of Wanda’s body that you were touching to memory via your grazing fingertips and adding new scents, words, feelings, images, and whatever else to the catalog of things that reminded you of her in your head, but when you thought about the love-drunk dizziness that followed the initial intoxication after the fact, you equated it to being a little tipsy and stumbling into a warm home. Only this time, home was a woman whose arms and mouth kept drawing you back for one more kiss, and then five more, and the thing that made you tipsy was the way the air crackled with invisible electricity and magic, and the look in her eyes when your eyes fluttered open after parting.

While time seemed to slow to a stop during your and Wanda’s moment, it hadn’t actually done so at all. This was proven when you heard the front door begin to open, causing you and Wanda to practically leap away from each other. She stared at you with wide, startled eyes and you couldn’t help but note your handiwork; her entire face and neck were flushed a deep red, her hair was significantly messier than it had been previously, that the lip color she’d been wearing had been partially transferred to your mouth.

The admiration could only last a moment. “You’re supposed to be in the kitchen.”

“I’m supposed to be in the kitchen,” Wanda repeated. “My lipstick is all over your face.”

You brushed a thumb over your bottom lip and it came away with a glossy pink. “Your lipstick is on my face.”

Wanda stood in front of you, suddenly frozen except for flitting eyes and hands grasping at the air while she tried to think of something. Then, with a couple of snaps of her fingers, she remembered her magic a moment later. “Oh, I can just-- You look amazing, the shirt’s a nice touch. See you out there!” She snapped once more and disappeared in a puff of red smoke just as you heard the front door swing open and Vision’s voice drifted down the hallway.

“Darling, I’m ho-- Oh.”

Then Wanda’s voice also bounced back your way from where she was probably now perched in the kitchen. Her tone was one part frazzled, two parts cheery, and five parts flirty teasing as she spoke. “Hiya, honey! Whaddya think?”

You drew your attention from their voices to the mirror that you now stood in directly in front of. The outfit you wore wasn’t nearly as polished as Wanda’s, but it had its intimate charm. While the two of you both wore stockings, that was where the similarities stopped. Your stockings were a sheer brownish-black and you wore no form of shoes with them nor any other accessories aside from your lightly ruffled mess of hair. In contrast to Wanda’s overall body-shaping attire, the pair of high-waisted silky shorts that you wore were flowy and loose, and instead of the shorts’ matching tank top with uncomfortable lace straps, you wore one of Vision’s pajama shirts that was a similar shade of red with vertical yellow and dark brown stripes. Posing a couple of different ways for yourself in the mirror, you were pleased to find the red and yellow were an almost match to Vision’s skin and the glowing gem in his forehead; with a little more pondering, you were a tad upset that the shirt you were wearing had yellow stripes instead of yellow spots.

If it had spots, you thought, I could look like a strawberry with a thigh-high chocolate dip.

Pleased with your look otherwise, you aimlessly moved about the bedroom before hovering around the doorway where you could almost make out the rest of Vision and Wanda’s conversation. The plan in place was that Wanda was going to give Vision the itinerary for the night--gifts and cards, dinner, because there was food to be eaten whether Vision ate any or not, an indoor movie theater that Wanda would magically whip up, and the rest of the night spent in romantic snuggling bliss--and then would give you a cue. When the actual process of getting the gifts came about, you were to bring said items to the living room, being somewhat of a surprise gift for Vision in your own right. You glanced towards the bed, where a white clothing box wrapped in a red ribbon sat with a trio of cards, one each from you and Wanda and one Wanda had made on behalf of the twins, who were still too young to do much on their own.

You couldn’t be sure whether it was because Wanda had slipped up and mentioned you--it was much harder to hear them from the other part of the house after their loud introductions finished--or if Vision, clever and curious man that he was, had caught on to your and Wanda’s plan already and decided to uncover it ahead of time. Either way, you suddenly caught a glimpse of Vision turning down the hallway, hovering a few inches off the ground to probably preserve the rose petal trail underneath his feet, and jumped away from the doorway before he could see you. While you couldn’t quite make out what Wanda was saying, you could hear a slight strain in her voice as she tried to get Vision to back down from his cause, to no avail. You only had a few moments to think of something and you decided to hop onto the bed and get comfortable in a casual sitting position, moving the small stack of Valentine’s Day goodies and looking coolly off to the side just before Vision floated into the room.

The soft thud of Vision landing on his feet your attention back over to the doorway and you saw him standing there rigid in his work suit, his gaze roaming over you before respectfully glancing away--only to be slowly dragged back less than a minute later. After watching this process continue a couple more times, you decided to tease him.

“Oh, hey there, crimson toaster oven,” you quipped nonchalantly, reaching up to toy with a stray piece of hair as you did, “how was work?”

Vision’s eyes settled on yours as you watched him with a cocked head. You expected some sort of reply, and for a moment he seemed like he was about to speak. Instead, though, he settled into an almost completely frozen state, jaw clenching slightly.

At first, you were amused. Then you realized he was quite literally frozen, nothing moving aside from the whirling of gear-like shapes in his irises, and your facade broke down a bit.

“Vis?” you questioned, sitting up straighter and moving the Valentine’s Day gifts aside, “you okay?”

No response.

You frowned and got up to walk over to him. “Um, Wanda?”

The Sokovian woman appeared a moment later shimmying around Vision’s form to stand next to you.

“Is he okay?” you asked.

“Oh, dear,” Wanda murmured. You watched as her gaze turned red and she looked him over, using her powers to check that his internal functions were still working properly. Eventually, her gaze stopped at his face and after squinting at him, Wanda said, “Ah. [Y/N], it appears we broke him.”

“I’m sorry?” you choked, “Broke him?”

Wanda seemed much less worried than you felt about the implications of Vision being some form of broken. She instead smiled and stepped up to him, giving you a simple “Yep” before pressing her fingers to his temples. Her eyes flashed red again and a second later Vision’s body sagged into a much more human position. “There we go.”

You blinked and watched as Vision shook himself out, flapping his hands and then rotating his arms and neck with a grumble.

“Ah,” he said, “much better.”

You eyed him. “Everything’s chill then? His gears got, ah, de-gummed, so to speak?”

Wanda snickered. She was now tucked against Vision’s side and helping him shimmy out of his jacket.

Vision seemed to remember where he was and what was going on because his eyes flitted from Wanda to you and back. When he settled a bit more, he looked at you both in turn, his gaze making a slow, deliberate path down both your and Wanda’s bodies as he took in what each of you wore. Finally, his eyes jolted back up to meet yours, and he responded in a low, gravelly voice, “Well, right now, I’m doing absolutely marvelously.”

You grasped that everything was back on track again and a smirk graced your face. “Well,” you said, clapping your hands together and turning back towards the bed, “as long as the short-circuit didn’t fry anything, the step of the night is gifts.”

Then you were being dragged back to Vision’s side by your wrist and he had an arm around both your and Wanda’s waists. “Now, just hold on there, [Y/N]. Shouldn’t I get to spend some time with my lovely partners, especially after seeing all the effort they’ve put in? Besides, I haven’t even gotten to compliment you about your looks.” He paused and pressed a kiss to Wanda’s temple, then nuzzled the side of your neck. When he moved his head away again, he eyed the way your shirt hung loosely off your shoulders. “Is that my shirt?”

You and Wanda shared an amused glance. She’d told you earlier that day about the anniversary-Hart family dinner mishap she and Vision had had when they’d first moved to Westview, the same day you’d met the couple, and how Vision and the Harts had come home to Wanda wearing an intimate nightdress that had made Vision more than a little flustered; the story is what sparked the idea for the evening’s current attire. She ignored his comment about you wearing his clothes and decided to nudge him back to the plan as hand, brushing a hand over the suit jacket now hanging from her arm. “I don’t know about that, honey, your eyes were certainly saying something.”

Vision pouted and hummed, probably trying to come up with another reason to keep hugging you and Wanda close to his body. After a moment, he chirped, “Ah, well! I brought you each something and something for the boys, and I left everything out in the living room. We can’t open gifts without all of them, what a pity. We might as well--”

“I have an idea.” Wanda interrupted. When you looked from Vision to her, she was still smiling but her eyes sparked with a playful warning. She freed herself from Vision’s hold, much to the tall man’s dismay, and walked over to the bed. She picked up the cards and tucked them under the arm that also held Vision’s jacket, then brought the clothing box over and held it out to you. “How about I go and make sure the food is warmed up and the table is set, then get all the cards and things into one place while, [Y/N], you give Vision the one gift he should still have.”

You raised a brow as you took the box from her and watched her saunter to the door, consciously moving out of Vision’s range. “You don’t want to see him open it?”

“I saw you open one I bought for you, you get to see the one you bought him,” Wanda said simply. “And I have a feeling that we’re better off if we’re not all in the same room until things get back on track, Vision might run the risk of shutting down again.”

You gasped dramatically and pressed your free hand to your cheek. Looking at Vision with wide eyes, you whispered, “How will I warm my bagels?”

Vision narrowed his eyes and made a grumbling sound from so deep in his chest you could feel the rumble where you were still held against him. Said sound and Vision’s overall reaction so far made you perfectly happy with the idea of the night derailing a bit off course, but you knew how much of a stickler Wanda could be when she made a plan and this was just as much a night for her as it was for Vision or you.

With no further objections, Wanda walked out of the room. The heels she wore gave her a sashaying step and neither you nor Vision were particularly upset as the two of you watched her go. Then the door was shut and you two were alone.

“So,” Vision said slowly as he turned his attention fully to you, “this is what you’ve been up to instead of going to work today.”

“It is indeed,” you confirmed, “and before you say anything else, I know full well what I’ll be getting into when I go in on Monday.”

“I hope so. You’ll be working harder than I have all week.”

You hummed and chewed on your lip as you thought. “Maybe… I could just… quit my job…”

“Hah!” Vision laughed and waggled a finger at you. “No, no, no, no, no. If I have to endure it, then so do you.”

You grinned and turned away from his finger as if to avoid his complaint. He chuckled and tried to catch your eye, rambling away about Oh, the work we shall both do, but you merely twisted away further, feigning beautiful, blissful ignorance. You even went so far as blocking Vision’s face from your sight with the box you held, which made Vision break off briefly to laugh again.

“--and then, maybe someday you will come home,” Vision continued, catching you in his arms again and tugging you close to him, “and see both of your partners, looking very fetching and being even more wonderful than usual because they’ve set up and entire romantic evening, not only because it’s a romantic holiday but because they specifically wanted to plan something to help you relax after a particularly busy week.” He paused, then added, “And it might even be a little better for you than it will be for me because you actually get to eat the food that’s taken up the entire kitchen.”

You tittered, tilted your head in mock thought even though Vision couldn’t see it, and then lowered your chipboard shield just far enough for your eyes to poke out from over it. “Mm, now that does appealing. Just one question though.”

“Of course, darling.”

You waggled your brows at him. “Which outfit will you be wearing, Wanda’s or mine?”

Vision smirked just slightly but it was enough to set off a volcanic eruption of heat throughout your entire body. You felt his fingers suddenly brushing against yours as he started to gently pry his gift out of your hands.

He said, “Depends on what’s in the box.”

He snagged the box from your hands, revealing your blushing face, but instead of opening it right away, his arm moved around your waist to be with the other once more. He pressed his forehead against yours and you felt a different sort of warmth as the golden gem in his forehead touched your skin. He tilted his head closer still to nuzzle his nose against yours then--

You quickly turned your head away again, flashing him a wicked grin when he stared at you, dumbfounded. You draped your now free arms loosely around his neck, fingered brushing lightly against his neck and fiddling with the collar of his button-up shirt. You shuffled closer to him to eliminate what little space left there was between your body and his, looked him in the eye, and teased, “Careful now, Mr. Maximoff. Wouldn’t want to knock another screw loose in that gorgeous, handsome head of yours.”

Vision’s low chuckle vibrated in his chest, feeling almost like a purr against your own body.

“Or,” you added, “knock one too many screws in?”

“[Y/N].”

“Wind the gears too tight?”

“[Y/N].”

You looked at him innocently; the irritated scowl on his face was contradicted by the mischievous twinkle in his pretty blue eyes. “I can keep going.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of that,” said Vision in that grumbling voice that would probably make you implode every time if it were his regular speaking voice, “but we are never going to get out of this room.”

“Interesting hypothesis,” you said with a very serious nod. “You are welcome to test it or stop me at any time. Now, where was I?”

It took a smirk and a raised brow to kick Vision back into gear but then you were grabbing his face and laughing against his mouth as he all but threw himself at you.

Kissing Vision was quite different than kissing Wanda, although no less addictive. Wanda’s kisses always felt needy but not in the way that one would think. Her kisses always felt like she had been lost up until the very moment your lips would touch hers, and then she was finding refuge and trying to absorb every bit of warmth and comfort that came from the way her mouth melded against yours before the kiss ended and she was alone and lost again. She almost always felt soft and sweet against you but you could feel a wild, restrained power brewing just underneath, and her power seemed to draw out and entangle itself with a power of your own, whatever that power was; the kisses never seemed to last long enough for you to figure that piece out.

When you kissed Vision, you could never get the idea that you were kissing someone not totally human out of your head, but in the best way. One of your favorite things to do whenever you kissed him was to run your hands over his skin and explore every single uniquely intricate thing about him, like the way his skin somehow felt soft and dense at the same time and how it was just slightly textured with lines and grooves that felt inhuman or the way that he didn’t really have a heartbeat or a pulse but rather a gentle constant rumbling of whatever gave him life doing its job, and sometimes this rumbling would jolt or slow depending on where you focused your ministrations. No matter his current state of being--exhausted, flustered, distressed--he was always strong and steady under your hands like he was ready to catch you if you suddenly misstepped or fly you to safety at a moment’s notice should the need arise. You couldn’t help equating the way his mouth worked against yours with the phrase “built to please”; he was always curious and searching in the way his hands and mouth roamed, and he seemed to get the most pleasure when he figured out exactly what you needed and did that--and he was much more often than not oh so very right.

While Wanda felt wild, Vision felt grounding. When you were kissing Wanda, you were so focused on her body and yours and the energy that wrapped the two of you up in a magical cocoon that you felt like you could start bursting at the seams at any moment. Kissing Vision got you much more out of your head, to the point where you were merely exploring him as much as he was you, which led to the occasional knocking of teeth or finding a ticklish spot that caused the kiss to break into giggles and teasing; maybe you would go back to kissing or maybe the two of you would slip into a conversation so seamlessly that you wouldn’t even notice until a couple of hours had already passed.

You often wondered if, when you weren’t around and your partners kissed each other, if either of them felt the same thing that you did. You wondered even more often how Wanda and Vision felt kissing you.

This time, though, it was Wanda’s voice from a couple of rooms away, muffled but noticeable, that finally broke the two of you apart.

“Any day now,” she hollered, although there was no trace of irritation in her tone. “It’s not like we only have a few hours left to celebrate Valentine’s Day or anything.”

Vision’s face scrunched up and he eyed the wall that separated the kitchen and bedroom via another room in between. “Mm, she’s got a point.”

You pursed your lips and squinted at the wall as if you would see red magic permeating it if you did so for long enough. “Do you think she X-rayed us?”

Your partner let out a short little chortle as he disentangled himself from you and looked over the box he’d managed to hang onto during your kissing session. “Even if she did, not like it’s going to be any different once we’re all in the same room together.”

“Good point,” you said. “Mm, more kisses.” You were still curious, though, so you hollered back to Wanda, “Hey, magical girl, did ya see me kiss your husband?”

All you got was a laugh back, which had you smiling.

Then you turned back to Vision, who was toying with the box’s bow, and said, “Alright, Vis, happy Valentine’s Day. Now give me your tie and your pants.”

You and Vision joined Wanda in the dining area shortly, Vision now dressed in a dark blue set of silky pajamas that matched your own shorts of the same shimmery fabric. Wanda had lit the candles not only at the dinner table but also around the rest of the house and she’d set proper places for three at the dinner table, although only two of the places had been served with simple dinner and various sweet, gaudy treats. After the three of you sat, Wanda gave Vision his cards: a beautifully designed one with a poem on the front and a lengthy handwritten letter on the inside from Wanda, a handmade one with bad Valentine’s Day puns and flustered ramblings all over it from you, and a “hand-drawn” one from Tommy and Billy that had really been drawn childishly by Wanda again as the babies were still too young to do so themselves. As he’d mentioned earlier, Vision had gifts of his own, which included a Valentine’s Day cupcake of your favorite flavor that he had snuck from work for you, cards and flowers for each of you, and a pair of inversely colored, Valentine’s Day themed stuffed puppies for the twins. With Tommy and Billy mentioned, Vision questioned their whereabouts and was surprised that Wanda had even let them out of her sight, though somewhat appreciative.

Dinner was next and went fairly quickly. You and Wanda ate a late dinner while the three of you conversed, mainly about Vision’s day and overall week but also you and Wanda explaining how you’d planned and prepared for the date without Vision being any the wiser. Vision made a comment that he, as an incredibly smart individual with a very expansive range of knowledge, should have noticed something sooner, which led to another bout of teasing from primarily you about how he’d fried his batteries when he saw his partners dressed up in pretty clothing and one of his shirts. Then topic conversations bounced around aimlessly for the rest of the time until both you and Wanda had cleaned your plates and even helped yourselves to some of the other goodies. Vision absolutely refused to let either of you do cleanup work, so you convinced Wanda to go change into something a little comfier--“At least take off those pearls and heels. Don’t really mind the rest of the outfit, though.”--and then went over to prepare the living room for movies by bringing over a few more treats to snack on, cleaning off an area for Wanda to magically project movies on the wall without clutter, and turning the couch into less of a decorative scene and more of a nest of red, white, and pink pillows and blankets.

Finally, the three of you settled onto the couch with Vision in the middle. That wouldn’t last for long, though, as you each grabbed a blanket or pillow and shifted yourselves into a big, fluffy, snuggle pile. You and Wanda managed to end up squished between Vision’s arms, where both of you could comfortably rest your heads on his chest. You could also slip an arm around Wanda and absentmindedly run your fingertips underneath the hem of the pajama shirt she now wore--another of Vision’s; it was a light blue and white striped button-down--and over the rose patterns of the sheer fabric hugging her hips. Instead of starting the movies right away, the three of you laid in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company.

Vision briefly had to unwrap his arms to stretch and yawn, the yawn something that wasn’t entirely necessary for him. After placing them back, he murmured, “We don’t normally celebrate these types of things, do we, Wanda?”

Wanda’s eyes fluttered open; you had been watching her lay in quiet, cozy peace and she smiled sweetly at you when she caught you. “Goodness, no. We’ve proven time and time again we’re not exactly the remembering type when it comes to holidays. Holidays, events--”

“Anniversaries,” you offered with a little grin. “Especially those that coincide with meetings with bosses.”

Vision groaned softly. “A minor disaster.”

“Ended well though,” Wanda pointed out.

“And provided the idea for this whole thing,” you added.

Vision hummed thoughtfully and you felt his hand run down your back. “That so?”

“You getting flustered over sexy nightwear?” you said. “What potential.”

Wanda snickered. “What potential indeed. We broke the man.”

“Well,” Vision grumbled, his arms tightening slightly around both of you, “I assure you I’m doing fine now.”

You whispered into his chest, “Only because Wanda put on a shirt.”

Your trio broke into tired chuckles, which then faded into warm silence. It continued for a few moments before Vision pointed out that the movie-watching part of the night didn’t necessarily need to happen.”

That you sitting up and reaching for a movie list you’d compiled much earlier in the day.

“We must watch at least one movie,” you demanded, “and that movie is Grease.”

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doctorthreephds · 4 years ago

Text

Synapses: Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 4.8k

TW: Mentions of death and drugs--specifically from the episode Demonology

A/N: Hey! Just a forewarning, the forensic techniques in this are complete speculation from what I know and they are probably not accurate at all.

Summary: After starting your new job and getting closer to Spencer, you find yourself having your first fight with your new friend when the anniversary of your mother’s death approaches.

Masterlist

Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @green-intervention @eevee0722

Starting your new job was hard, like all things, but enjoyable. The first few days were learning the ropes and the area and you often came home exhausted, tired from a long day’s work in a lab you were unfamiliar with. The little things were what kept you going. Every day, you made an effort to eat lunch with your father--leftovers or food to go from a nearby restaurant or deli. When your father went away on his case, you spent time with Penelope in her bat cave. It was fun to hang out with her, spouting comedic rhetoric whenever someone called her for advice.

“Please don’t eat near the merchandise, baby, it’s my money maker,” she states, typing away at the speed of light as someone rings in. “Information highway speaking, you’re on speaker with me and the good doctor.”

You snort and let out a small laugh as you silently dig into your takeout box of chow mein.

“The good doctor? I thought that was me,” you hear Spencer speak up from the phone and smile, lifting your chopsticks to your mouth.

“You’ve been replaced, Dr. Reid. Sorry!” you say before taking another bite of the noodles.

“What are you doing--”

“Stay on track, boy genius. What do you need from me?” Penelope asks and you zone out, not wanting to listen into the details of the gruesome murders they were investigating. While your job sometimes involved dead bodies, you were in fact eating lunch and wanted to keep your lunch down for the rest of the day. After they were finished, you could hear them wrapping up and you inserted a final goodbye.

“Bye Spencer! I’ll see you soon,” you state as the phone beeps to signal that the call has ended.

“See him soon?” Penelope spins around as she fiddles with a pink pen with a puffball on the end that almost matches the pink blush on your face.

“I mean I’ll see him when the case ends,” you mumble and toss your takeout box into her trash, taking a sip from your water bottle.

“Hm, I’m sure that’s what you meant,” she smiles and turns back to her computer, typing something up. “If you need any info on him, I can tell you anything you want to know, sweets.”

“I’m not gonna do that, it’s an invasion of privacy,” you stand and check your watch, it’s about time for you to get back to work. “But if anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

Other times, when your father was too busy to entertain you, you would eat with the others--or more specifically, Spencer. Travelling up to the sixth floor, you check to see if Spencer is anywhere nearby. When you deduce that he is nowhere near, his plush office chair becomes your new home as you open up your bag and grab the tupperware full of salad while you wait for his arrival. Opening the small container, you poke at the leaves with your fork and make a face when you see that they’re soggy and limp.

“Have a salad today?” he asks as you look at the sad lettuce in your small tupperware container.

“Yeah. Although, it doesn’t look very appetizing,” you state and put it down on his desk, looking up at the cup of coffee in his hand that looked far more delicious than the monstrosity that was sad salad.

“Did you know that salad comes from the latin word ‘herba salta’ which means ‘salted herbs,’ so perhaps you don’t have enough salt on your herbs,” he states and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you close the container and put it away.

“Any more salt and my blood pressure’s gonna be at risk. Wanna grab lunch at the deli?” you ask and stand. He nods as the two of you exit the bullpen, taking the elevator down.

This was your schedule, and you loved it. It didn’t take that long for you to build a good relationship with everyone, constantly checking in on their lives outside of Quantico. Emily was doing well with Sergio, Henry was growing at a rate that JJ couldn’t comprehend, Penelope was still going out with Kevin, and you and Spencer were often found hanging out on the weekends when he wasn’t called away for a case.

You found it odd how easily you took to Spencer, how his fun facts were always there to brighten up every conversation and his constant pursuit of knowledge was admirable. He took you to his favorite bookstore as well as his favorite used bookstore that he frequented in hopes of finding first editions and original copies. He also would take you to his favorite park, the one that he went to so that he could play chess and he would always win. It wasn’t always about him, though, you loved taking him to go see new movies as opposed to the older and foreign ones that he enjoyed. The two of you also committed to trying new foods together. With his sensory issues and your picky nature, you both embarked on a journey to eat new foods in hopes of finding something new and delicious.

While your new found friendship was almost perfect in the way that you committed yourselves, it too could not come without ups and downs. The first bump came when you helped consult on an unofficial case, something that had happened with Emily’s close friends. It was only a few days before the anniversary for your mother’s death and you were running on fumes.

“Hello?” you ask sharply, pouring over several reports that were due soon. Your temper was short today and you just wanted to go home.

“Hey it’s Spencer. Are you okay?” he asks and you sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What do you need?” you sit back in your chair and take a sip of your coffee, attempting to quell your anxieties while he speaks.

“I’m not at Quantico right now, I’m at a victim’s house. His name is Thomas Valentine and he died of dehydration but Emily believes there’s foul play. I’ll have Garcia send over his tox reports along with Matthew Benton’s to see if the pathologist missed anything. We’re on our way back so feel free to meet us upstairs when we debrief,” he says and you nod, writing down the information on a stray post-it note so that you don’t forget. “By the way, your dad says ‘hi.’”

“Tell him I say ‘hi’ back. I’ll meet you upstairs,” you state and hang up the phone, sighing as you run your hands through your hair to release some nervous energy. It was only a few more days and you would be on your day off, it was only a few days until you would be able to visit your mom again.

Just as if she heard it from five floors up, you receive an email from Penelope with the toxicology reports from both victims. A quick skim shows that there is a lack of intense scrutiny due to the simple cause of death. But, if Emily and Spencer believe otherwise then it was in your best interest to assume so as well. Looking into Matthew Benton’s report, there was evidence of long-term methamphetamine abuse which could contribute to the death but nothing out of the ordinary. It was only midday and you were running out of steam but your friends needed you so you had to pull it together.

After printing out all the information you have and stashing it in a folder, you make your way up to the bullpen and watch people rushing around. The busyness and chatter made you a bit woozy but the sight of Spencer helped to ground out a bit.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have to be here,” he frowns as he sees you approach and you shake your head.

“I’m fine, I just want to help out in any way I can,” you mumble and move past him toward the conference room where almost everyone was gathered. Once Hotch arrived, they began to pour over details and possibilities within this pseudo-case.

Listening intently, you take note of the evidence as it is laid out for you, the scuff marks under the bed, the missionary church in Spain that the two victims had visited, the idea that each family had been highly religious. Years of going to church in France and D.C. were being brought back in an instant.

“That sounds like an exorcism,” you blurt out and look up to see everyone staring at you. It was odd to hold their attention but you nestled down in your chair and continued to listen.

“Look, I know the Bible just as well as anyone, but I also know there’s nothing more open to behavioral interpretation than religion,” Derek comments.

“Meaning what?” Emily asks, shaking her head.

“I think it’s dangerous for us to wanna find a connection between these deaths,” he states.

“Wait, was Thomas’ wife religious?” Emily frowns and looks around at your father.

“She was concerned that he had been cursing God,” your father recalls as Spencer dives into an inference.

“Exorcism ritual can take days to complete. It’s possible the stress induced could cause a heart attack, especially in someone with a history of drug abuse,” he explains and looks at you.

“Definitely, drugs leave marks on your body that are irreversible unless you completely stop. It makes an impact on your hair growth, your skin, your heart, so it’s completely plausible. And it could explain how someone died of dehydration,” the facts fly so fast through your head as you try to connect the dots while you speak, your head spinning. Even a couple minutes in the conference room was overwhelming, you couldn’t imagine doing this all the time.

“Guys, look, I’m willing to say that we might have an unsub who ritualizes killings as if they were exorcisms, maybe. But, right now, we don’t even know if we have a crime yet,” Derek voices his concerns and you slowly nod, thinking about how you could help to clear up any room for error. It was possible if you were able to look at the bodies and examine them that you may have the ability to try and see if there were any other traces of possible deadly substances.

“Morgan’s right. We need to step back. Let me talk to someone before I have us all telling ghost stories,” your father suggests and everyone appears to take this as time to cool off and rethink any possibilities, standing and leaving the room to follow their own leads. Dread settles in your chest as you sit in the chair, looking down at the folder to find any piece of information that could help you come to a conclusion but the words were flying around in your head and you felt too sluggish to do anything.

“Do you think that you can get me the victim’s clothing? Perhaps something was done to them topically that would explain their deaths further,” you stand and sigh, already dreading going back to your reports.

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be our lunch break,” he says and smiles. While his smiles usually have the power to brighten your entire day, your sour mood only extinguished any fire of joy inside your body.

“I have too much to do, just go on without me,” you respond and begin walking out of the conference room. You can already feel Spencer’s pestering bubbling up and wanting to know what’s wrong but you didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Are you sure? Studies have shown that taking breaks help boost blood flow and information retention--”

“I’m sure, Spencer,” you snap and continue walking toward the elevators before he reaches out and grabs your arm to stop you.

“What’s going on? Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“God, I’m fine Spencer! Stop babying me, you’re not my dad,” all the emotion that had been building up in the morning spilled out in anger and your heart shattered to see Spencer so confused and sad. “I’m sorry.”

Stepping into the elevator, you press the button to go down and watch the doors close in front of you, not looking anywhere in the direction of Spencer. The fluorescent lights above you suddenly look far too bright and tears well in your eyes. What would your mother say if she could see you now? Would she be disappointed? Would she be angry? A vibration in your pocket breaks you out of the self-loathing spiral.

From Dad (12:24PM):

I think you just about broke this kid’s heart.

To Dad (12:25PM):

I didn’t mean to. It’s just so close.

From Dad: (12:25PM):

Just tell him. He’ll understand.

To Dad (12:26PM):

I know. I love you.

As you sit at your desk and stare at the papers, your mind moves on autopilot to complete the rest of your tasks. With only two cups of coffee in your system, your head was starting to hurt and your focus was fizzing but when Spencer came back with a couple bags full of clothing to be processed, the guilt overpowered any feeling of fatigue.

“I brought the evidence. Just send the report to Garcia,” he states and drops the bag off at your desk before turning to leave.

“Hey, Spencer?” he turns to look at you, his eyes narrowed as you speak. “I’m really sorry. I’m not feeling well.”

“I could have told you that, and I’m not even a medical doctor,” he mutters and sighs. The air between you is stale and you want to speak, but don’t know what to say.

“Do you want to stay and help me process the evidence? It’ll only take a little bit,” you ask, your voice small. He appears to ponder the thought before nodding and you smile, standing and taking the evidence over to one of your machines. This was where you thrived. While you worked in silence, it was comforting to have Spencer around, even if the two of you were still on rocky ground.

You first started with isolating the fabric and the substances on the clothing. From there, you take them and test what they are to see if there are foreign substances that may have contributed to the deaths of Matthew Benton and Thomas Valentine. Processing goes quickly and you print out the report, frowning at the traces of nerve agent on the clothing.

“There’s sarin on their clothing,” you tell him and hand over the papers for him to read through.

“Thanks,” he mutters and stands to leave.

“Are we okay?” you ask him, watching him turn as you wrap your arms around your torso in a comforting way, warming your hands from the cold lab.

“Obviously not, if you’re not telling me something,” he puts down the folder and comes up to you, reaching out to take your hands. It was a bit of a shock, considering the fact that you knew he hated touching hands, but it was progress and it made your heart melt to think that he would feel safe enough to do so. “I know something’s wrong and I want to help you, but you’re not being honest with me.”

“I just haven’t eaten, Spence. And I’m under the weather, which doesn’t help. I promise that I’ll be okay,” you tell him, staring up into his eyes and speaking with as much truth as you can. But it wasn’t convincing enough and he pulls away as if you just burned him.

“I guess you don’t trust me, then,” he mumbles and turns around, picking up the folder and getting into the elevator. As the doors close, he stares back at you like he was disappointed and it completely broke you. Fat tears roll down your cheeks as your chest bubbles with anxiety and sorrow. You find a seat at your desk and desperately try to wipe the tears away, breathing in deeply to calm yourself down. You were still at work and you still had work to do.

Quickly, you dive back into your reports, writing them up as quickly as possible and pushing Spencer to the back of your mind. Before you know it, the end of the day comes and you’re out of the building and on the metro at record speed. The vibration of the wheels rolling over the tracks lulls you into a sense of security, distracting you from the pangs in your stomach. Without the distraction of work, your mind was able to wander.

Was it fair for you to hide this from Spencer? Why did you? Why did you need to keep this secret so badly?

Perhaps it was the years of being on your own after her death or the fact that showing sadness was opening yourself up to vulnerability and connection that you feared. Perhaps it was both, you didn’t have many friends in grad school and only talked to your dad once every blue moon. The thought of being a burden was unbearable, but losing Spencer was unfathomable. You could deal with a little bit of vulnerability if it meant getting your friend back.

Your legs guide you home once you reach your stop and you reheat some rice and add some soy sauce to make something that is edible and that you can keep down without issue. After eating, you shower and head to bed, falling asleep the second that you hit the pillow.

The next day, your alarm jars you out of a dreamless sleep, shaking you from a night that felt far too short. Your entire body was fatigued and your brain was a mess, but it was your last day at work before you got the day off. As you got ready and out the door, your phone was blowing up with information sent by Penelope and Emily. There was another death and they needed you to analyze the clothing of the third victim to confirm that nerve agent was being used to kill these men.

One you reach the office, you sit down and begin writing as you await the evidence. If you worked quick enough and finished the reports, you would be able to go home early. The fog in your brain makes it hard to focus as you work on more write ups, the words barely forming sentences, but you force yourself to persevere through lunch. Late in the afternoon, Spencer appears again with the evidence bag you need to process.

“Just send the report to Penelope when you’re done,” he states and turns back around to get into the elevator but you stand and pipe up.

“Can we talk?” you ask, hoping and praying that he would let you speak.

“I don’t know, can we? Because you seemed pretty adamant about keeping secrets from me last time we tried to talk,” he mumbles as he turns to look at you, his eyes dark and full of storm clouds.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, trying to find the right words so that your thoughts form coherent sentences. “I’m bad at talking about what’s plaguing me. I’ve been alone for a long time, and I’m sorry. It’s not an excuse, I know, but it’s a start.”

You want to say ‘I’m sorry’ over and over, but it wasn’t an explanation and he deserved at least that.

“Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother’s death,” his frown almost vanishes from his face as you speak which makes you feel a hint of encouragement to keep talking. “And I’ve always dealt with it alone. Maybe because I don’t let myself handle it any other way, but I hope that you’re able to understand. I’m sorry, Spencer.”

Staring down at the ground, you will the tears to stay in your eyes so that you can keep up some image of togetherness, but they fall as quickly as they form. Suddenly his arms are wrapped around you and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. This was him accepting your apology and you suddenly felt like you could breathe. You worm your arms around his torso and pull him close, allowing yourself to take in all of him. The smell of his cologne, the feeling of muscles as they squeeze you tight, the fact that his hands were intertwined behind your back and his head was settled on top of yours.

“I’m sorry too,” he mumbles and you pull away slightly to look up at him. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

He pauses as he also stumbles over his words.

“But, I’m glad you did.”

You let out a sigh and hug him tight again, wanting to memorize the way his arms felt around you. After another long hug, you pull away and wipe your nose, shaking your head as you look over at the evidence bag.

“I’m sorry, Patrick. I’ll get to processing your clothes now,” you mumble and let out a light laugh as you wash your hands and ready the evidence, processing the substances on his clothing. Beside you, Spencer leans against the wall and watches silently. It’s a bit nerve wracking to have someone watching you the way that he does, with bright eyes and attentive body language, but you do your best to explain it to him as the machine brings up the results.

“Nerve agent, it’s sarin,” you turn to him. “Go tell them.”

He nods and picks up the newly printed report.

“I’ll come get you afterward,” he promises. “We can ride the train together.”

“There’s no need, I’m going home now. Just text me,” you smile up at him as he nods and takes your hand, squeezing it one last time before leaving.

You feel lighter now, like you lifted a rock off your chest. It was a burden, keeping secrets, but now you could feel a little bit better. After writing up all the procedural stuff on how you processed the evidence, you pack your bag and head to the metro. When you’re on the train, you get a text from Spencer telling him that they caught the priest and he was being deported back to Italy.

To Spencer (7:45PM):

I’m glad.

From Spencer (8:01PM):

Do you want me to come over?

To Spencer (8:02PM):

No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay.

When you finally arrive at your stop, you easily find your way home. There was still sadness lingering, it was getting to be that time, but you had Spencer and that was enough. Getting home and getting to bed is a quick ordeal after you eat something and drink way too much wine to try and drown your sorrows and quiet your mind. The same days every year, you take a couple off so that you can mourn the loss of your mother and visit her grave. It was almost like a way to pretend that she was alive, even if just for a day. You had a lot to tell her after everything that’s happened, but it still didn’t help the fact that she was gone forever.

Waking up the next morning is rough, it feels like a train plowed into you after a night of tears shed and one too many glasses of wine as you reminisced. Looking at your phone on this bright Friday morning, you see that you’ve managed to sleep in pretty significantly, but at least it was still technically morning. Waiting for you are a text from your father and a text from Spencer.

From Dad (6:00AM):

Chin up, tesoro. Your mother loved you very much, she would be proud of everything you accomplished.

From Spencer (7:02AM):

Do you want to get dinner after work?

From Spencer (7:34AM):

Where are you?

From Spencer (8:01AM):

Let me know what I can do.

The blanket of isolation took over you as you slowly began your morning routine, slowly being the key word. While Spencer knew, you didn’t know what to do now. This was uncharted territory for you and while you knew you weren’t alone, you had also never mourned with another person besides time spent at your mother’s funeral. Perhaps another year, another time. He was only just your friend.

After you throw on comfy clothes and brush your teeth, you put your hair up so that it’s out of your face and eat some cereal--something easy and virtually effortless. Once you finish, you make a mental note of what you’re going to pick up at the store before heading to the cemetery to spend time with your mom. Throwing on a coat and slinging your bag over your shoulder, you punch in the security code and open the door to see Spencer there.

“Spencer? What are you doing here, it’s only like two,” you frown and close your apartment door behind you, locking it with your keys.

“I finished up all my paperwork so I took a half day and I wanted to cheer you up,” he states as you look up at him. “Maybe we can watch some Star Wars or that vampire movie you always talk about.”

“I’m going to visit my mom,” you tell him.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll go then,” he says and begins to turn and walk away but you pipe up before he can get too far.

“Why don’t you come with me?” you ask. He was already here and he wanted to help you feel better. His presence alone was grounding, reminding you of what you had and not of what you lost.

“Are you sure?” he asks and you nod, walking up next to him.

“She would have loved you,” you almost reach out and take his hand before you realize what you’re about to do. “Can--Can I hold your hand?”

You’re almost positive he’s going to say no. After all, you know he has issues with germs and sensory issues, the day before being a special occasion because you had broken down crying in front of him. But, when he nods and holds out his hand, you feel your heart flutter. The two of you make your way downstairs in a comfortable silence and the warmth of Spencer’s hand in yours is comforting. As you exit the elevator and make your way out onto the street, the cold D.C. air is refreshing.

Together you walk to the local grocery store to grab some food and flowers, daffodils, which were your mother’s favorite. After, you ride the metro down near the cemetery. This whole time, the presence of Spencer is enough to distract you from the ever present cloud looming over your head, but when you finally walk through the cemetery’s gate, all hell breaks loose.

When Spencer hears you sob, he instantly wraps his arms around you. The floodgates open and you softly sob into his chest, your arms wrapped around him in a vice. Your heart hurts, you miss your mother. She should have been alive to see all the accomplishments, to see your wedding and your second graduation. It’s times like these where you wonder if anything could have been done, if you could have seen the symptoms sooner or if you could have found another doctor, but your father always reminds you that you did everything in your power to help her and that she would have been proud of the person you were today.

Once your sobs subside, you sniffle and pull away to wipe your nose.

“Sorry for crying on you,” you huff out a small laugh and try to wipe away some of the snot that got on him while you cried.

“It’s okay, I understand,” he says and you sit down on the blanket, Spencer sitting next to you and helping to lay out the food.

“Hey mom,” your voice breaks a little and you clear your throat before turning to Spencer. “This is Spencer and he works with dad. He’s my best friend.”

You smile at him as he turns and waves at her headstone. The notion is so heartwarming that you feel the tears rise up again.

“Hi Ms. Montgomery, your daughter is one of the best people I know,” he says as you begin to eat cheese and crackers from the charcuterie board.

“He works in the same building I do, I got the job at Quantico. I know that FBI agents and you don’t mix very well but I enjoy my job and they have all these new machines for me to play with,” you lay your head on Spencer’s shoulder and continue talking as he wraps an arm around you instinctively. As the two of you sit there and pick at the food, continuing to talk about your mom and your fondest memories, there’s a part of you that wishes it could be like this always. Maybe you didn’t have to always hide your sadness and spend it in isolation. And just maybe, there was always a rainbow after a storm.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jj #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia

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andmaybegayer · 4 years ago

Text

Last Monday of the Week: 2021-03-01

First Monday of the Month. My boss just quit at work which means I'm now the only formally trained engineer left who has any particular specialization in embedded systems. This week is going to be a doozy.

I also wrote a Very Long set of media updates because I’ve been consuming some stuff that makes me think a lot. Never a good sign.

Listening: I spent all of Saturday playing Minecraft after talking with some friends about it during the week on IRC. Practicing what I preach with regards to my Large Biome Supermacy policy, which does involve a lot of walking. Hence, I started catching up on The Adventure Zone: Graduation again, I'm like ten episodes behind.

https://maximumfun.org/episodes/adventure-zone/the-adventure-zone-graduation-ep-32-by-a-haircut/

I don't really enjoy Travis' DM'ing style. It's very loose and he has a tendency to let players run wild without much structure which is a tricky thing to handle. He does a lot of worldbuilding and character design but doesn't seem to plan much in the way of arcs. That pays off sometimes (returning to the school to realize they broke a promise they made a few sessions earlier and had to deal with consequences, for example) and when it does, it’s really good, but it's finnicky. I know DM's who can do that, but, well, actually I know One Single DM who can do that well and she's absurdly smart.

Reading: Still on Worm, I just got past chapter 8 or so now. It lives in my phone browser so I've mostly been reading it whenever I get some spare time, which is a good sign. If a book doesn't grab me I need to really settle down in a quiet space to avoid getting distracted, but I can read Worm while someone else is on the phone in the same room.

It is a story with a lot of very well-conveyed feelings and events. It's very easy to imagine yourself in it. Characters actually act like they care about what they're doing, I feel like writing this took a lot of care to keep everyone on model.

There's also a certain care given to the superpowers that you'd usually only see in forum posts arguing about an actual superhero story. Everyone always likes to argue about how far you can push a superpower: can you use teleporting to fly? What prevents a speedster from catching fire in the air? Where does the energy for a pyrokinetic ability come from? Worm takes these and runs with them as a way to make absolutely any fight become a series of gambits relying on whether a power can or cannot be used to perform some high-stakes trick.

The world certainly has some underpinning contrivances to explain why no one gets killed very often but I've always considered nitpicking the base contrivances of a setting silly, because that's precisely what they are: contrived, in order to allow the rest of the story to flow from there. Like arguing about Omega’s abilities in the famous thought experi-*I am dragged off stage by the ratblr police for making a by now extremely stale joke*

Watching: I came and edited this section in like an hour before this posts because I keep on forgetting to put it in. I don’t really like watching TV and with my parents stuck at home in Pandemic Times it’s how they pass the time.

I did finish S3 of the Good Place. It’s very funny. I’m glad I’m watching it and I’m going to have to go find S4 because ZA Netflix doesn’t have it for whatever reason. It feels a little like it was written by Phillip Pullman if Phillip Pullman was a comedy TV writer.

I also really enjoyed the PBS Spacetime video about how time causes gravity. Love when an explanation of concepts is good enough that you drawn the conclusion on your own.

youtube

Playing: Visual Novel Hell plus Minecraft.

I spent approximately seven hours in Minecraft over two days. I tend to hop in and out of games for 1-2 hours at a time but there's a handful that can suck me in for an entire day. Minecraft, Warframe, Horizon Zero Dawn, Night in the Woods. Bastion, to a lesser extent. I end up avoiding them because I don't like loosing entire days, but I wasn't really planning on doing anything this weekend anyways.

Minecraft was mostly a long-ass trek to find a saddle, because as previously mentioned, I enjoy playing it with Large Biomes for the sense of scale.

I also completed Act 3 of Psycholonials and Eliza.

Psycholonials is odd. It is doing the thing that Hussie does where it dances around what's ostensibly the story to carry out the actual story. You get used to the trope after your first encounter but it still makes you wonder when the other shoe will drop, and of course, there's no reason it ever has to. The story may remain in suspended animation behind the every growing mess of narrative red tape tying the B-plot together.

Stories about Social Media have no well established norms. I think I might pick up Feed by M. T. Anderson and also perhaps Hank Green's books sometime. See what context they set that in.

Eliza is frustrating to me. It's a game for programmers, by programmers, about programmers. I'm friends with a lot of Capital P Programmers, the types who go to university and get sniped for developer positions at Seattle or Silicon Valley tech companies and who make great and terrible things and then warn you about the deep problems that underpin the slowly rolling ball of venture capital and bloated technology that is the tech industry. But at the same time, it makes me feel like I've burnt out on that conceptually before I even went in. It’s a whole other world that I’m familiar with but very distant from. In fact, that’s kinda how I feel about Psycholonials too. I’m familiar with the social media rat race but I also don’t go there. Parallels!

My cousins (who are halfway to Capital P Programmers, only so much you can do halfway around the world from silicon valley) warned me not to go into CS, because it would bore me, and that's a non-trivial part of why I'm in Engineering. They gave the same advice about Biology and Physics, without that I may have ended up in Microbiology. it’s not my domain, but because of how Engineering is going, you end up a lot closer to programmers than you think. I found out the other day that most of the software developers on my team have no formal tertiary qualifications, which is accepted in CS but of course, right out when it comes to engineering. It’s a whole other world that I kinda expected to skip around. I might go into this another time, since this post is already getting long.

Making: I haven’t done any engineering scicomm posts on here in a while so I started a few blank drafts and finally got one off the ground. With some luck I’ll have that ready this week. What’s it about? Not saying! It might change!

I’ve been doing layout for a custom keyboard, I need to call a laser cutting place and find out what their kerf requirements are so I can adjust the path accordingly. Wouldn’t do to burn a couple hundred rand on an oversized part, I’m paying for this, not my employer like the other times I’ve done laser cutting, so I’m probably not going to spring for getting one of their designers to check my design. At some point I should CAD up a chassis, but at the same time I might just buy some wood and go ham with a router once I get the plates cut.

Computers Slot: I got WeeChat set up properly on my desktop, which technically was just a matter of getting my SSH keys moved over. It’s taking me forever to move in to Cinnabar, in part because Stibnite lost her boot partition and I haven’t bothered to fix it.

So here’s a pitch for WeeChat as a good quality Terminal UI IRC Client. Many of my closest friends live there and it has a good set of tools to help me keep in touch.

WeeChat is very configurable but with perfectly sane defaults, I didn’t configure it for years. The UI is smarter and less arcane than something like irssi, and if you enable mouse support it can be downright modern. Running it remotely like this limits some features but as long as you don’t mind jumping through a few hoops to do filesharing, IRC is really great like this.

One of the big ones is the ability to do that double-pane thing, I can keep an eye on two channels at once (really as many as I can cram on my screen, but usually two) which is great when you want to browse channels while talking in your home channel.

It also has a good array of remote access tools, from what I’m running up there, just weechat running on my server inside tmux connected over mosh for low-latency SSH, to weechat-relay, a relay protocol built in to weechat. At the moment relay only supports android phones and the glowingbear web client, but I’ve never really looked around since both of those cover all my needs. Easily one of the best ways to get IRC on a modern mobile device, barring maybe IRCCloud.

#last monday of the week #galena

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eli-gator · 5 years ago

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Okay but imagine an AU where Cole survived but Hank was injured so they put his brain in an android body. Thing is, the doctor was high on red ice and Hank's brain was installed in the same model android as Alice. Cue Connor meeting Hank in the bar mistaking him for a child that's drinking or when the Traci's see him and start giggling, Hank is like "I change my mind, shoot them." Also maybe Gavin and a couple of officers givings the doctor a concussion.

I really like this idea for a good ol’ fashioned crack fic. I can picture the bridge scene where Hank tries to threaten Connor, but he’s too short to aim at his head, and he has to jump on top the bench and wave Connor closer, just for dramatic effect. Connor has a lot of trouble taking Hank seriously, especially when Hank keeps forgetting he can’t eat or drink, even though it’s been three years, and absently chews on the snacks in the break room.

But then I remembered I literally cannot write anything that doesn’t have angst, and this happened—

The one thing about being trapped in an android’s body that Hank would forever miss was the sweet mind-numbing taste of alcohol, how he could just drink and let his worries float away. Sure, since the ‘Life Partner’ upgraded androids were launched, many new androids did have the ability to consume and use the energy from human foods, but Hank wasn’t that lucky. He missed a lot from his past life, smelling fresh coffee in the morning, the kick from a cigarette, the feeling of waking up from a restful sleep, the taste of a cafe’s fresh apple pie, but Hank would never regret throwing himself over Cole’s body to protect him from the car skidding across the road.

Hank’s life had forever been turned into before and after. Cole was a handful before the accident, but afterwards, having missing the lower half of his left leg and suffering reoccurring migraines from the head trauma, Cole need more care and attention than Hank could give. Hank himself didn’t fare much better, stuffed into a too-small bastardized version of a desperate mad doctor’s last hope, forever trapped at five-foot-nothing, forever a chubby cheeked, snot-nosed brat. So Cole went to live with his mother, and Hank got ever-other weekend, and holidays. Hank hadn’t let that doctor go without a fight, he knew it was done with good intentions, but some days he wished it had ended that night. Hank won nearly ten million dollars as a settlement for the damages to himself and his son, and the doctor got a life sentence behind bars, but nothing could take it back.

Hank struggled.

He quit his job, Hank had more than enough to carry him for the rest of his human life-span, but he found himself with nothing to do. He didn’t have to take care of Cole, he didn’t have to worry about food, or beer, or sleeping.

He just sat, and thought. Thinking about how long he would be alive for, the doctor’s didn’t have a clue, he was an illegal experiment, would his brain just chug forever onward, until his DNA repeated enough to lose meaning, and he slowly decayed until he stopped functioning? Hank didn’t know if he even wanted to know

He sat there for days, leaving only to feed Sumo and let him outside, sitting on the worn out couch in clothes that were far too big, and he would never grow into. Staring ahead at the repeating commercials as he just tried to rationalize this new thing he had become, watching until he felt like he was vibrating with the pent up anxiety, until he had to do something - anything - to cope.

So, he tried to come to terms with his new body, knowing that he wasn’t going to change, he was never going to wake up and see from 6′2 ever again. He stretched his tiny limbs, testing the limits of his new durability and strength, and struggled figuring out how to reach high things without losing his balance, tripping, and bashing his head against the ground.

He went and bought android hair dye. Then, still unwilling to face the public, he sat on the internet and searched every clothing website he could think of until he found something that felt like him, but would still fit. He couldn’t go out in shirts long enough to be dresses, and boxers that looked more like shorts. He wasn’t quite as small as a child, but it was close enough that Hank never wanted to be mistaken for one. His new face was already infamous on the news, he really didn’t want to look like a child any longer.

Hank sat down, got in contact with Cyberlife, and demanded they teach him how to properly care for his android body, he didn’t get a choice in this, but he’d be damned if he went out on any terms but his own. So ended up in a taxi on the way to Elijah Kamski’s apartment, four weeks after Hank was no longer a person.

I sneezed and out came 700 words of pre-canon android Hank.

Oops.

I might continue, just because I love this intro and where I was going with this, but it also might just end up forever unfinished, you’ll have to wait and see. . .

. . .And I can’t help but wonder, what if it was Cole?

What if the revolution happened a decade earlier, and Cole grew up in a world where androids were equal to people (for the most part). Cole survived the car crash, but was severely injured: he would never move again, forever trapped in a body that would never respond. Hank, not wanting his child to be unable to interact with the outside world, signs up for an experimental ‘Live Forever’ study, where a human brain is transferred into a synthetic android body. The catch is, the procedure is too delicate to do the surgery more than once, so Cole will forever be trapped in the body Hank chose for him, A Child’s.

#Dbh #dbh Hank #Dbh Au #Android Hank #Android!Hank #dbh Drabble #Feel free to send me requests!#dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction #dbh reverse au

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northsouth12 · 4 years ago

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How to actually do goals according to science

Every year I kind of sort of commit to some ~New Year’s Resolutions~ and every year I kind of sort of make progress on them. This year I was diagnosed with depression and that led to me doing a bunch of research on how brains work and working with a therapist (bless them) to learn how to be kinder to myself.

In 2021 I’m setting goals again, but also approaching my goal setting with a different, more compassionate, and more informed mindset. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of setting myself up for success and I wanted to put it out there a) because I learned public sharing helps with goal achievement and b) in case this information/plan could help anyone else. So if you are also tired of making aspirational lists of all the stuff you’re going to do with nothing to show for it, come on over!

PEOPLE WHO KNOW MORE THAN ME

For quick and easy learning, I recommend the following podcasts/websites, from where I have drawn most of this information:

(1). VOLITIONAL PSYCHOLOGY with Dr Joseph R Ferrari, Ologies podcast ( 1:05:56, transcript and notes on website). A podcast interview explaining what procrastination is and what we can do about it. Also be nice to yourself.

(2). FEAROLOGY with Mary Poffenroth, Ologies podcast (1:13:49, transcript and notes on website). A podcast interview explaining how stress is equivalent to fear and how to interrupt our body’s stress response to regain our health and sanity.

(3). “Golden Rules of Goal Setting” on MindTools.com. A website covering most of the actually scientifically backed goal setting advice without a lot of life coach BS.

(4). My therapist. Credit where credit is due, they are a godsend. I highly recommend these conductors of light.

BASICS OF GOAL ACHIEVEMENT

For people who hate reading, here are the spark notes. There’s more information and tips in the long version, but I understand that some people put together IKEA furniture without looking at the directions.

Use the SMART method to write goals:

Specific - well defined and clear how to accomplish

Measurable - precise definition of success

Attainable - doable but still challenging

Relevant - aligned with personal values

Time-bound - must have a deadline

Put goals in writing. Use “I will” rather than “I want to” and frame statements positively.

Write down why specifically you want to achieve each goal.

Make an action plan breaking goals into individual steps. Break tasks into smaller and smaller chunks until you get to a place you can make progress. No judgement, just move the bar until you can move forward.

Schedule regular check-ins to evaluate your progress.

Post goals and progress publicly.

Incentivize achievement.

Surround yourself with doers rather than (fellow) procrastinators.

ABOUT SUCCESS AND FAILURE

If you can achieve 80% of your goal, that is success. In fact, happiness peaks at 85% success and 15% failure. People feel happier failing a bit because then their goal feels challenging and worthwhile.

YOU WILL FAIL. It will happen. It is okay. Focus instead on how you will react and grow from your failure.

“Stress” and “fear” are effectively the same thing. Recognize and own your fear; don’t be ashamed of it. It is a natural response. Also, recognizing your stress as a fear response helps you determine the root cause, and then address it, or even use it as a growth opportunity. Successful people freely use the word “fear”.

For many procrastinators, their fear of failure also includes a fear of success. You are afraid to do the work because you are afraid of not being good enough. These people (me) are practicing “social esteem protection” - thinking that if I don’t finish a task, I can attribute it to a lack of effort rather than a lack of ability because it’s a “time management” issue. It’s not. Time management is a myth, and the end result is that you are letting down the same people you want so badly to like you.

Procrastination is a learned behavior, which means that you can unlearn it. The best way is through CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) to reprogram your thinking for people who have a persistent issue with procrastination.

Forgive yourself for your failures the way you would forgive other people.

HOW TO SET GOALS STEP-BY-STEP

Sorry this section is long, but it turns out a lot of the keys to success in achieving goals starts with actually writing them properly. Who knew?

Set a deadline. The traditional New Year’s Resolution is supposed to last through the end of the year, but I’ve found that is too long a span. I end up procrastinating because “there’s so much time left” until there’s not and then “it’s too late to start now”..... So now I’m setting my goals seasonally: four sets of three months. My deadline for winter goals is March 21st, the Spring Equinox. As part of my public accounting, I have told everyone this, including a bunch of internet strangers.

Also key for us procrastinators is setting a start date. I gave myself a week to write my goals and make my action plan. I have to keep track of my progress starting Monday.

Determine your priorities and set limits. You cannot do everything, no matter how much you want to (procrastinator, remember?). Looking for layout inspiration on Pinterest I came across so many bujo people with 8 million goals on their page layout. That’s not happening. Remember that your goals are meant to create positive change and a sense of accomplishment, NOT cause more anxiety. So make limits. How do we do this?

Make a big list of aspirations first. You can do this by identifying your personal values and generating ways to emphasize those more in your life. You can make a list of everything that you’re afraid of (aka causes you stress) and then think about ways to address or confront those fears. For example if getting a bunch of work emails into your personal inbox every weekend ruins your Saturday, aspire to set some work/personal life boundaries! Or maybe you have something you’ve always wanted to do, like learn a language or set time aside for a hobby. Put it on the list.

Now you have to edit the list. You can keep it to refer back to for the next round of goals, but choose out the top priorities for the next three months. To help you do this, refer back to your personal values, or just ask yourself “why do I want to do this?” If the answer is because someone else thinks you should, nix it. This is for you and only you. I originally chose 8 priorities, and then cut it again to 6 aspirations total - keep the plan simple and manageable to set yourself up for success. Remember, 85% success is what we’re aiming for. I also tried to choose a mix of difficulty levels of the individual aspirations (exercising = freaking hard; keeping a gratitude log = pretty easy) so that I might get some early wins and momentum.

I also recommend that at least one priority is just something you know will make you happy. We all need to set aside time and energy for ourselves, and to stop feeling ashamed about doing stuff that makes us happy. What the actual f**k. Choose one thing you love -- reading, baking, petting animals, being outside -- and make it an official goal to do it more often. NO JUDGMENT.

Okay, now to format your priorities into achievable goals. You are going to take each one of those aspirations and put it into an “I will” statement with a quantifiable definition of success. For example, my aspiration to “sleep more” became “I will follow a bedtime routine for 21 days straight.” You want to make sure your statement is framed positively (rather than “I will not eat junk food”, try “I will eat healthier snacks”). Also think again about making your goal challenging but achievable. I did not write “I will sleep 6 hours a night” because I can’t control that. I chose 21 days straight as my success measure because I anticipate I’ll fall off the horse a few times before I get a successful streak, and three weeks would be good progress for me. Another thing you can do is use ranges like “I will pick up 1 - 5 items in my room each day.” This is a bit of a mind game where the low end of the range is easily achievable so you have no excuse not to do it. Often once you get started, you might find that you have energy for 5 items after all.

Now that you have your goalposts set up, write down those “whys” you thought about when you were choosing them. Recording why you want to do this specifically is helpful for your motivation as time passes and further clarifies your goal.

As we’ve learned, accountability helps! For each of your goals, write down how you will share your progress. I’ve asked different people to check in with me about my sleep and exercise routines. I’m reporting about my ongoing issues with procrastinating on my schoolwork to my therapist each week. For my goal to read more books, I’m posting a picture of each book I finish on my Instagram. And for my goals to keep a gratitude log and consume news in a healthier way, I’ve decided I can hold myself accountable. In addition, I’m using my journal to keep track of my progress towards all six goals.

Set a reward for each goal. This could be anything from a pack of your favorite chocolates for completing an easy goal to giving yourself permission to buy that sweater you’ve really wanted for achieving a super challenging goal. I am also trying out having bonus rewards such as a small reward for an 11-day streak on my sleep goal to give me a push of momentum. For my hardest/most important goal I also decided to do a “stretch goal” like with Kickstarter where I get a reward for overachieving. So maybe I went a little reward crazy, but we’ll see how it goes!

Finally, for each goal write down the actions you’ll need to take to achieve it. For me this is stuff like “draft a bedtime routine and share it” and under that, I plan to research by “listen to somnology podcasts” and “read sleep solution book”.

HOW TO MAKE PROGRESS

Whew, you made it through writing the goals and now you are set up for success! Here’s a few more tips to keep things moving.

Now that you’ve got your goals all set up, share them with the world! (Or at least the people you’ve decided to help keep you accountable). Sharing goals and progress publicly is proven to increase our likelihood to achieve them.

If you’re a journaler, make a nice goals layout and a tracker for your progress. I did not find good examples for achieving goals in a scientific way when I looked for inspiration on Pinterest. If there is a journaler out there who read all the way to the end of this post and made a nice layout, please share your artistry. My “layout” is just a list. :/

Surround yourself with doers. If you have trouble motivating yourself (me), ask a friend to pair up with you. I am doing a remote master’s degree. It is not going well. However, setting up a regular Zoom “work date” with a friend who is currently working from home has forced me to sit down and look at my schoolwork on a regular basis.

Schedule regular check ins to evaluate your progress and write them down! I have a combination of check-ins with my “accountants” as well as a plan to review my goal progress every Sunday when I plan my week. This is written on my to-do list on each Sunday to make sure I do it.

Go forth and conquer! And remember, failure is a fact of life and does not make you a bad person. It just means you are learning more about how to set your goals for next time!

#goals #2021 goals #new years resolutions #goal setting #goal achievement #science

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wbooker · 4 years ago

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♪ austin abrams. cis man. twenty four. he/him. ♪ is WES BOOKER here again? gosh, they really love it here. they have been coming to reckless records for THREE YEARS. they’re always requesting HOME BY TOM ROSENTHAL to be played. everyone says they’re +INTELLIGENT and +THOUGHTFUL but can also be -PARANOID and -OBSESSIVE. oh look, they’re in aisle 10!

ABOUT THE MUN. what is that! that freaky thing! yes, that’s right, it’s a naked mole rat.

hello all, it’s me. pepper. if you read that in a hello god it’s me margaret vc we are simply meant to be <3 but omg yeah i really was out here plottin for mika and completely forgetting booker exists skjsdk sorry king. you deserve better. anyways, down below will be a bit about the boi because i am too lazy for a google doc !! maybe we’ll make it later we’ll see.

BIO. *doesnt check my academic email* everythings OK

wesley booker was an accident. let’s not sugar coat things here. he was a big fat fuckin mistake. you see his parents were on their way to retirement when he came into the picture. all of their other children were grown up, some even with children of their own. and then booker and his twin sister showed up. they weren’t exactly thrilled about the whole thing.

i mean, they weren’t dicks about it. they fed the twins and clothed them and gave them like basic love and all that. but they definitely didn’t put as much energy into the last two kids as they did into those before them. so booker and his sister pretty much were left to their own devices majority of the time.

so the twins very quickly learned to entertain themselves. they had each other for company and that was fine. for the most part the twins were actually pretty codependent until they got a bit older and found themselves when more friends. but to this day they are still quite close.

whenever their parents got tired of dealing with them they would send the twins over to their uncle robs shop. customers probably got pretty used to the two kids running around reckless screaming their heads off, and playing hide and seek excitedly through the aisles. they gave poor rob more grey hair than a man should ever have at that age, but hey, they gave the shop character. booker and his sister spent pretty much majority of their childhood at reckless to be honest. they went their after school so that rob could take them home once the shop closed up. they were there one weekends, when they parents didn’t particularly want to deal with them. and later, when at least booker became of age, he even worked there.

booker worked front counter at reckless for all of his high school career. and honestly, he was good at it too. he had the kind of thoughtful, detail oriented personality that worked well in that kind of environment. he started working at reckless when he was fourteen, and by the time he was in his senior year he was even assistant manager. things were good. really good. while rob was more of a chill boss, relaxed boss, booker actually had the ability to keep things organized and keep majority of the store under control. things were actually running smoothly while he was there. his uncle got extra sleep. all the customers were happy.

and then booker quit to go to university. and well. the place dissolved into the good old chaos it was before. honestly, booker finds the disposition kind of stressful, but mostly funny. his uncle begs him to come back at least once a week, but with booker now being in graduate school and working as a side gig as a teaching assistant and tutor, well, he simply doesn’t have the time. he comes by often enough though, just to laugh and his uncles woes and occasionally force him to take a nap as he organizes the books for him, maybe watches the place.

but booker’s real focus at the moment is his masters in film. your boy wants to be a director, so you can often catch him waxing poetic about classic movies or looking like a zombie after his exams.

HEADCANNONS. how do you deal with anxiety? i let it fuck me up and then i go to bed.

a responsible boi ! honestly booker has been a tiny adult since he was a child. when he was a child he looked a lot like little luke crain from haunting of hill house. now he has contact lenses.

a huge nerd. loves movies and comic books and classical literature. really such a dweeb. very smart, and quite humble about it but also a damn nerd yk.

has an old beat up pickup truck he drives everywhere that he mostly fixes with duct tape skjdsj it was his dads and he’s only keeping it because he can’t afford another one but god,,, we hate it here.

a push over honestly. super kind. if you need anything just as him and he will probably give it to you. very skeptical and paranoid of people he doesn’t know quite well tho. the duality of man <3

your boi has anxiety <3 he do be stressed! you can probably catch him studying for his exams and such in the back because i feel like he just ??? stays above the record store a bunch because it’s closer to where his school is that his family home yk

has a film journal that he rates literally every film he sees in. also has a regular journal and lowkey writes poetry in his spare time but he would die if anyone read it. the type to fall for someone and write a lil poem about them in his journal yk!!

but yeah!! that’s my boi pls like this if you would like to plot !!

WANTED CONNECTIONS. might fuck around and read a 500 page physical published book in one sitting like it’s 2006 and I’m being bullied in middle school so I take refuge in the library and inhale books at a frightening speed that I have not been able to replicate since

best friends, old coworkers, old high school enemies, an academic rival maybe, his twin sister but i am gonna put that in as a wc, exes, fwb or ewbs, someone he can confide in, a study buddy, someone he sees/discusses movies with, and an opposites attract vibe maybe!

#recklessintro #w.b. | bio.

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master-sass-blast · 5 years ago

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Weekly Wrambles

...Hi.

(Yes, I know that’s not how you spell “rambles.” It’s for humor.)

So, uh, I know I’ve been pretty quiet for a while. That’s mostly due to needing to take time away from Tumblr so I can actually get things done, and also injuring my arm/shoulder/back when I my laptop’s ‘c’ key went out, forcing me to move to an external keyboard, which threw everything out of whack in my body -yeah.

I have a functioning laptop again, and it occurred to me that I should probably try to interact more with my followers here, generate some content, and practice talking about my projects instead of just posting them and then disappearing.

Bear with me. I’m very shy. (Putting the rest under a cut so it isn’t an assault on the dash.)

CHC Updates: The CHC is still going. I had to stop basically all writing and computer things when I hurt my arm -which was TORTURE--so I haven’t made near as much progress as I wanted. However, I’m still working on stockpiling fics on the weekends. Right now, I’m working on Children of the Gods Part Three, and I’ve got about... four (maybe idk I’m not gonna try and count right now) filler fics done, too.

Do you guys want update posts for word counts/how many fics I have stocked up? I might try doing something like that anyway, but I’m curious to know what y’all want to see.

E-Reader Stuff: I am going to try and make some E-Readers that I could put on Amazon for $2-$3 to earn some passive income. Dunno when I’ll fit writing them into my schedule but... yeah.

I think the ones I’ll start introducing first... are probably the Wild West Magic Using Cowboys/Cowgirls/Cowthems Steampunk thing, the Futuristic Steampunk Cruise Ships in the Sky Love Story that’s Sorta Ala Titantic but Not Tragic, and “DOLLS” (the only one I have a title for oops), which is a dystopian futuristic fic about beauty influencers/entertainers if it was a competitive “class” where they were filmed 24/7 for content... yeah.

A lot of my stories (fanfic, e-reader, or otherwise) are queer focused or inclusive. I’m working on educating myself so that they can be racially inclusive as well (but in a positive, respectful way, of course). If that appeals to you... cool.

(Idk what to say. Why was I made so awkward.)

Novel stuff: I’m also working on a novel series, of which the first book is called “Game On.” It’s kind of a fantasy/sci-fi fusion thing, or as I like to call it, “thinly veiled political/social commentary.” It’s got a main series that’s probably around eight to nine books and some sides series/spin-offs that focus on other prominent characters in the universe, too. I’ve actually got some art of the first main character/narrator (the main series is broken up into two mini parts that have two different narrators, don’t ask me why I did this to myself):

Her name’s Lola -and, yes, she has purple hair and silver eyes. This is because I designed her when I was fourteen, and, honestly? I stand by it. CHARACTER DESIGN SHOULD BE F U N!

She also has special powers.

I can already hear the Mary-Sue comments coming lol.

(She’s a “Glitch,” which --in the universe--means that she gains experience and abilities quickly and has some select abilities; in her case, that includes empathic abilities (her strongest ability) and abilities to make a basic “shield” around her body and fire some energy bolts from her hands (more “defensive” abilities, ala snakes having venom or hedgehogs having spikes).

Anywho. This is just me... trying to be less shy about my various projects. I normally don’t like to share things before they’re completely done because... it feels rude? Somehow? Like, I’m somehow promising a certain product, and then if I can’t deliver it in the time frame or to the scale I promised, that I failed?

I don’t know. But I do know that I want to share my stuff more. So here I am.

Yeah

Tagging my friends and CHC taglist for this to try and get a little traction on this. Want to be added or removed? Just DM me. (If I missed you, I’m sorry; I’m very tired lol.)

@chromecutie, @marvelhead17, @marvel-is-perfection, @leo-writer, @ginghampearlsnsweettea, @lolofangirl, @emma-frxst, @dandyqueen, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @sadstone-s, @rovvboat, @candle-light-writings

#sass speaks #sass writes #my art #my writing #my projects #trying to be brave #my ocs

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justhereforseverus · 5 years ago

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A rose by any other name would smell as sweet

Chapter 5: Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war

During your first "lesson" with Severus Snape, you get a flashback of something long forgotten and avoided.

Notes:

This is angsty. TW: for shouting abuse, horrible teachers, classmates, and almost passing out.

Yes, I know a real flashback doesn't work that way but this is what I can produce with my limited writing abilities. Thank you so much for reading! I've also wrote some very emotional, romantic, loving, intense scenes for the future chapters and I can't wait to share them.

Chapter Text

I slept like a sweet little lion cub. Ok, no idea if they sleep well but that was the first thing that came into my mind this morning. I felt refreshed, full of energy and entirely at peace. Gosh, that sleeping potion was truly magic. I basically hopped into the great hall for breakfast and Remus looked at me like I’ve turned myself into a unicorn and exclaime: “What the hell happened to you? You look almost like a normal person today. Are you the real (y/n) or did you simply have a good night’s sleep?” I sat next to him and eagerly poured myself some pumpkin juice. “Yes, actually I slept like a baby. Severus’ sleeping potion is really something. Highly recommendable 10/10. Might work for you, too, you scruffy little dog.” He jokingly stuck his tongue out and finished eating his pancake before saying: “First of all: I’m anything BUT a little dog and I think scruffiness is not a negative thing because it makes me look cute – I let out a small ironic haha at this – “and secondly: Congrats! He didn’t poison you! That means he tolerates you, which is better than what the rests of us get: pure loath and hatred.”

“Doesn’t he also make your wolfsbane potion?”

Yes, but I’m convinced he’s putting something in there that causes headaches afterwards just because he can.”

“But you can’t prove it, dear! Anyway, any plans for the weekend?” “Yes, I have a date with my very attractive girlfriend Tonks so sorry no intercourse this time unless you’re open for a threesome.”

“Stop it! No, thank you, I’m good! You’re hanging out way too much with Sirius. I haven’t forgotten how he flirted with me the first time we’ve met. Worst pick up lines ever! But I’m happy for you. I don’t have any plans, yet but we’ll see. Might get a bit of reading done.”

“How boring but that might be just the perfect weekend for you. If you want to you can ask our dungeon bat to join. Maybe he feels social for once.”

“Haha, very funny. But either way I’m glad to have a bit of a break from teaching.”

I appreciate that Remus is so open and easy to be around with. Sometimes I fear we became best friends way too fast but it’s like in school. You click with someone and it’s you and your best friend against the world. His girlfriend Tonks has been in his life for a couple of months now and gosh they are so in love it makes me happy. Makes me miss having a crush and a relationship sometimes. I haven’t been in one for ages. I’m just scared and don’t connect that way with people. Well, unless you count celebrity crushes, fictional characters and poets long dead and gone. Hopeless indeed. I wish Franz Kafka’s ghost would actually be available, but he wasn’t a wizard so anyway...

When I passed my pidgeon hole in the faculty office I saw a tiny parchment roll bound with a green band. I opened it and read: “If you’re free this weekend, we can begin our lessons tomorrow at noon. Research which potions you’d like to learn and prepare their specific names. If you’re unable to come let me know through an owl, as I’m not coming into the teacher’s offices anymore for today. Yours Sincerely, S. Snape.” Ok, that’s my weekend settled then.

On Saturday, I arrived at the potion classroom with a long roll of parchment containing the potions I’d like to make, a thick notebook so I can make notes, and my fluttering nerves bundled together in my stomach. To be honest, I was nervous and this felt like a math exam. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea after all. However, upon entering the classroom, Severus presence calmed me somewhat. I know others wouldn’t feel that way when entering the classroom. Yet, I simply feel like meeting someone familiar. Is that strange? Am I making sense? Probably not.

We discussed some of the potions I had in mind and he chose one of the simplest for a start. He put the instructions on the Black Board and I, as his temporary student, sat at the front table. I felt nervous and it was difficult to not see myself as a teenager again. Here and there did he tell me how to put ingredients into the pot or how to cut them rightly but apart from that he focused more on supervising. The potion was easy but I’ve never dared to try it myself without equipment, ingredients or someone to look after me. Unfortunately, I also forgot why my self-confidence and trust in potion making has disappeared. While looking at the flask turning a bright green with reddish streaks, I remembered something. It felt like I’ve seen this before. I’ve been here before. I started shaking and my mind went blank. It was like a deja-vu, a flashback to something I’ve completely forgot and actively pushed away from memory. How could I forget the main reason why I’m not doing this? I heard shouting in the back of my mind, my equipment pushed to the floor, glass breaking, a man shouting, screaming in my face and the entire class laughing. How could I ever forget this? I started shaking and the knife, which I used to cut some radish looking things fell from my hand to the floor. My vision went black and my knees became weak. Suddenly, I felt arms around me, heard a voice calling my name from very far away. I looked around and saw Severus with panic on his face, trying to lead me to a bench that was put against the wall. I remember sitting and he giving me a cup of something warm to drink. Slowly I got back to reality and my vision normalised. I felt Severus holding both my shoulders to make sure I don’t fall to the floor. When it came to me what happened, I only muttered an apology and held my face in my hands. He didn’t say anything for a while, put his long coat over me and then proceeded to finish the potion and put the equipment away. He then returned to my side still silent. After some minutes, he asked: “How are you?”

I was embarrassed and felt nothing but shame. I apologised again and stood up wanting to leave the classroom but he stopped me in saying: “Please don’t leave. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can simply forget that happened or not. That is your choice. I won’t ask. I’m not mad. But stay. I don’t think it’s wise to go up all the stairs when you haven’t recovered, yet. I don’t want to be responsible for any deaths in this castle.” I looked at him and he sat, arms and legs crossed on the wooden bench looking towards the floor. I obliged and got back next to him. “I forgot.” I said “I forgot why I gave up on potions. Why my grades have been mediocre or down right only passing. I forgot otherwise I wouldn’t have put you in this position. I’m sorry.” “You’ve apologised two times already that’s more than enough.”

“Sor -I mean. Yes.”

“I can be a horrible teacher. I know that. It’s not a profession I chose willingly, not that this would be an excuse. I know it’s not right. Yet, I never scream. I try to control my emotions at any times and let words speak for themselves. Whoever was responsible for this memory didn’t have the right to do what he did. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You outgrew him.”

“Thank you but… how?

“Obvious when you’re holding your hands over your ears and mutter ‘Please stop shouting’.

“Oh…..”

“As I’ve said: It’s fine.”

We sat in silence for a while and I sipped at my tea. When my spirits came back, I tried to lighten the mood as I always do in these awkward situations: “Are you giving tea to your frightened students, too or am I an exception?”

“My students usually hate and fear me behind my back so I’m afraid I can’t offer them this. Furthermore, it would ruin my reputation. If they want to be cuddled they can go to Minerva with her endless supply of biscuits. No, this is something reserved for grown-ups. English courtesy you might even say. When you don’t know what to do. Make tea.”

“I see. You’re not that frightening to me so far.”

“As I said. You’re my colleague, not my student.”

“Yet, you seem to be nicer to me than to the rest of my colleagues.”

“Maybe. However, I’d argue I’m a role model of courtesy and politeness.”

I chuckled at this “Remus wouldn’t agree.”

“Well, me and Remus have a difficult relationship.”

“He said exactly the same and yet I like you both.”

“Interesting indeed. We’ve barely talked.”

“Just a feeling. Thank you, Professor Snape."

“Call me Severus. No need for useless titles here.”

#tw #anxiety #flashback #anxiety attack #pro snape #severus snape #harry potter #snape x reader #snape appreciation month #snape x female reader #snape x oc

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jarienn972 · 5 years ago

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A Simple Spell - Chapter Five

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

Sorry for the week delay in posting this new chapter of my @cssns story, but between the rough week at work, and an even rougher weekend in my personal life, I barely had the time, or the energy, to write. This chapter also ran a little bit longer than I originally intended but that was partially because I decided to add a brief glimpse into Emma's everyday life as a Storybrooke deputy to bridge the time between her two "dates". Just a little bit of comedy to lighten things up because a big revelation is coming soon that will shake Emma’s trust.

I want to extend my thanks to everyone involved in this event! @kmomof4, your commentary leaves me in stitches every week! I have to also thank @cocohook38 for the incredible artwork above and @lassluna for her time as my beta to help keep this tale on track.

I also want to give a little head’s up that since next week is my daughter’s birthday, it will be another 2 weeks until I can post Chapter six. Party planning is a lot of work!

Read from the beginning on Tumblr: One Two Three Four AO3 FF.net

Thursday morning came way too quickly. The sun hadn't even risen yet as Emma reached across her nightstand to squelch the incessant beeping of her alarm clock, wishing the whole time that there was a similar button that would cease the throbbing inside her skull. She was going to pay dearly for overindulging last night, but despite the hangover, she didn't regret everything she did last night and she was actually looking forward to the day. Well, more specifically, the night.

The past few hours had also given her a stark reminder as to why living with her brother was a bad idea. Her sister-in-law had still been awake watching television in the living room when Emma tried to slip in the door unnoticed. Mary Margaret had a huge, exuberant grin on her face, probably hoping that Emma would spill all of the lurid details of the evening - especially the part that included why she was trying to sneak into the loft after midnight, but Emma wasn't going to be quite so forthcoming. Not tonight at least.

She gave her sister-in-law an embarrassed smile and feigned a yawn as she practically darted across the room to the stairs. Mary Margaret simply nodded and whispered "good night" but Emma had little doubt that they'd have the full conversation later. The woman definitely had a way of pulling information out of people without even breaking a sweat, or her sweet demeanor. She'd probably make one hell of an interrogator if she wasn't a third grade teacher, Emma thought as she ascended the stairs to her bedroom.

Now that it was morning, she had a bigger challenge facing her - getting downstairs and out of the door before David realized that she was running nearly half an hour late. She really wanted a steaming hot cup of coffee with a side of ibuprofen, but it would have to wait until she got to the station since she wasn't going to have time to stop at Granny's on the way. She tiptoed down the stairs as stealthily as she could, crossed through the kitchen to grab her bag and jacket by the front door - instantly freezing and cringing at the sound of two words uttered from the living room.

"Late night?"

Damn. Of course, David was already awake. "Yeah. Sorry… I'm on my way in…" she apologized without making eye contact with her brother. She absolutely needed to get a place of her own.

"Give Anton a call when you get to the station. He left a very strange message on my phone this morning and it sounded very much like a problem that will take someone with your particular skill set to deal with…"

"Really? What kind of problem?"

"He said that a couple of his pigs escaped their pen and got into the bean fields…"

Emma swung her head around at the mention of Anton's beans with a puzzled and slightly worried expression on her face. "Do I dare ask - which beans? String beans? Beanstalk beans? Or…"

"That would be the or. Apparently, they ate a few of Anton's new experimental anti-gravity beans that he's been testing to make climbing those big ol' beanstalks to his realm easier."

"So… we've got flying pigs?" she deadpanned, too hungover to even find the humor in this ridiculous situation.

"Technically floating pigs… I mean, they can't really go anywhere due to the protective field around Anton's farm, but he needs someone who might be able to do a little magical piggy wrangling."

Emma shook her head and exhaled a frustrated sigh. This definitely wasn't the start she needed for this day. She had to think of a spell that would either counteract the effect of the beans or somehow figure a way to confine them to a safe area until the beans wore off - however long that may take.

The ironic part was that two days ago, if someone had told her that she'd have two handsome, eligible men vying for her attention, she would have replied when pigs fly. Now she was about to contend with actual airborne swine while thinking about both of those wonderful men. But she was also trying to ignore a niggling thought deep in her subconscious that kept saying that this wasn't necessarily a good thing. She just wasn't clear-headed enough to want to listen to it yet.

**********

A few hours later, after battling three very unruly pigs at Anton's bean farm, Emma was now certain she'd seen everything. She'd attempted three different spells trying to get the pigs to come back down to earth, but none were successful. So, with Anton's assurance that the floating effect would wear off in a few hours, as a last resort, she used her teleportation abilities to relocate each of the pigs into the general area of their enclosure. Once all three were back in one place, she utilized a protection spell to put a separate force field around the pig pen so they wouldn't be able to fly off again. She just couldn't promise Anton that they'd have a soft landing when the beans wore off, so he'd made the decision to make the enclosure as muddy as possible to help cushion their descent.

Mud that had clung to her boots as she'd wandered into Granny's, already exhausted only two hours into her morning. Who would have thought that wrangling flying pigs would be such hard work? It had certainly been enough to leave her famished so she'd left David a message to let him know she was taking her lunch hour early so she could get breakfast. Graham could handle things until she got back she told herself as she slid onto one of the stools at the diner's counter.

The little devil on her shoulder urged her to order some bacon and eggs, but when Ruby came over to take her order, she decided on a Belgian waffle with strawberries and a heap of whipped cream on top instead. She did go ahead and order a side of scrambled eggs, but what she really wanted brought out to her first was the biggest cup of Granny's strongest brew. Ruby took her order to the kitchen, then returned to fill both Emma's stainless steel travel mug as well as a ceramic mug to drink here. Emma thanked her bubbly friend, silently questioning how anyone could be so perky this early in the morning as took a tentative sip of the steaming coffee. She relished the beverage's aroma but didn't realize how much she'd been craving it until the welcome warmth reached her belly. Now this morning was improving.

After a short wait, Granny herself emerged from the kitchen with Emma's food, immediately scrunching her nose in disgust as she approached the deputy.

"What the hell is that stench?" Granny scowled, glaring at Emma - and the muddy footprints that the deputy had left on the floor when she entered the diner. "And where did that mess come from?"

"Sorry, Granny," Emma flushed with embarrassment while digging through her jacket pockets in search of her wand. "I was out at Anton's farm and I sort of forgot…" Brandishing her magic wand, she waved it in the direction of the dirty floor and recited the spell - "Et abiit lutum. Dirt be gone." With a swish of her wand, the floor was sparkling clean once again and Emma repeated the spell over her boots, not daring to leave behind even the slightest trace of mud when she left the building.

"That's better," the elder woman grumbled as she placed the plates of food onto the countertop directly in front of Emma. "Next time, please clean the boots before entering my diner." Emma nodded in agreement as she stabbed her fork into a chunk of scrambled egg. You just didn't argue with Granny. Ever.

By the time she'd finished off the eggs and devoured half of the waffle (but all of the strawberries), she heard the tap of shoe soles on the magically clean tile approaching her. A quick glance over her left shoulder revealed that the figure nearing her was Walsh, seemingly off to a late start this morning. She noticed that his pace slowed a bit as he got closer, his steps becoming tentative as he reached the counter - and Emma, for that matter.

"Good morning, Emma," he greeted her, his voice a little timid. "I hadn't expected to see you here. Would you mind if I joined you?"

"The seat's not occupied," she teased, still very aware of the awkward way they'd said goodnight last evening. He was partially responsible for her hangover so she didn't feel the least bit guilty taunting him a bit. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could wrangle an explanation out of him for his weird behavior yesterday without having to outright ask. "Thank you again for dinner last night. I had a great time catching up on lost time. Can I return the favor and buy you breakfast?"

"How about just coffee?" he suggested as he took a seat on the stool to her left. "I have a meeting with one of my suppliers this morning so I'm short on time."

"Sure. Hey, Ruby - can I get another coffee for my friend here?"

"Just a sec. I've got a fresh pot brewing," Ruby responded, fishing a second ceramic mug from beneath the counter. She brought the empty mug over to where Emma and Walsh were sitting, giving Emma a sly wink of approval as she placed the cup in front of Walsh. "Be right back, hon."

Emma shook her head at the waitress' actions, although she secretly appreciated the affirmation. As promised, Ruby came right back over with a fresh pot of coffee, filling Walsh's mug and topping off Emma's before scurrying off. They each waited until she was out of earshot before continuing their conversation.

"Emma, I think I owe you a bit of an apology over how our evening ended last night," Walsh spoke up, his confession catching her off-guard. She hadn't imagined that he would bring up the subject without even the slightest bit of prodding.

"An apology?" she feigned ignorance. "For what?"

"I guess I didn't like how things ended rather abruptly and that's entirely my fault. I let myself get a little too comfortable and I completely forgot that it wasn't the old days. I'd fully expected to see you off with a goodnight kiss, forgetting entirely that we weren't on a date. It wouldn't have been appropriate and I'm very sorry if you sensed any disappointment on my part."

"The thought never crossed my mind," she insisted, shoving another forkful of waffle into her mouth before her tongue had a chance to betray her.

"Phew," he sighed loudly. "I was honestly worried that you'd be upset with me this morning and I'm really glad that you aren't because I'd love to have dinner with you again. If you'll have me, that is…"

"I would love to have dinner with you again, Walsh," she replied after she finished chewing and swallowing her food. "How long do you expect to be in town?"

"Through the weekend, for sure and it looks like probably Monday since the shipment I'm awaiting seems to be delayed by a storm in the Atlantic. That's what my meeting this morning is about - to get an update on the ship's pending arrival. Are you free tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow's Friday, right? I can't tomorrow. I have a meeting…"

"A meeting? At night?"

"Well, more like a training session - to help me work on refining some newly-acquired skills." She wasn't entirely sure how she should explain that she was actually attending a coven gathering at the height of the full moon, but since Walsh had hinted earlier that he was familiar with Storybrooke's less-than-secretive other side, she didn't think he'd be opposed to discover that she was dabbling in magic. "I've been studying to become a witch."

"A witch?" he asked incredulously, although she didn't sense he was overly surprised by her revelation.

"Yes. Technically, I guess I already am a witch, but I'm still pretty much a novice. I've been studying with some of the town's most powerful…"

"The Mills sisters?" he interrupted, again catching her unprepared for his query. He was definitely well-versed enough to be able to drop names.

"Yeah, I've been learning from them as a part of their current coven."

"Excellent teachers, I'm sure."

"They are, but just how do you know about them?" she asked skeptically. "You've crossed paths with them?"

"So to speak. I've been doing business in Storybrooke for years and through my contacts here, I've learned a lot about this little town. As I mentioned yesterday, this town is a great source for unique discoveries."

"Alright then, I have to ask - do you practice magic at all?"

"No, I don't dabble in it myself, but I've picked up a few potions here and there from Mr. Gold at the pawn shop. He's an excellent apothecary as well. I've been told that both he and his wife were members of the Mills sisters' coven until maybe a year ago. I guess they mostly stopped practicing magic when their son was born but Mr. Gold is still a wonderful source of information and trinkets."

"I haven't really gotten to know the Golds that well, but as you know, Storybrooke is full of surprises," she chuckled nervously, for some reason feeling ill at ease with the direction the conversation had taken. She glanced up at the clock on the wall near the old jukebox and made a very animated display of being late. "Oh, crap! I hate to run off on you again, Walsh, but I really better get to the station before my brother sends out a search party. I'm probably free Saturday though…"

"I'll take a look at my agenda, but I'm pretty sure I'm free that day too."

"Great. Call me later then." She forced a smile to her lips as she gathered up her things and dropped a ten dollar bill and a couple of ones on the countertop to pay for her meal and Walsh's coffee. "Thanks, Ruby!" she shouted to her friend as she snatched up the travel mug. "I'll see you around town, Walsh."

Walsh stood up to see her out before returning to his seat. Ruby swiftly whisked away Emma's empty plates before asking Walsh if there was anything else she could get him. He politely declined, staring at Emma through the window as she made her way through the diner's courtyard and disappeared beyond the hedge. Ruby gave him a smile and a nod as she vanished into the kitchen with a huge grin on her face knowing that tomorrow night she was absolutely going to grill Emma to learn everything about her handsome friend.

**********

Despite clearing the air with Walsh and making tentative plans with him for the weekend, Emma had only a singular thought on her mind the rest of the day - her date that evening with the infuriatingly charming Captain Jones. A relatively light afternoon of patrols allowed her to leave the station on time - and to take a much needed shower to wash away any remaining traces of Anton's bean field mud. Tonight, she was going on a proper date, albeit on that modern day pirate ship, and she wanted to look her best.

She'd selected a soft pink chiffon dress from her armoire and drew her unruly hair back into the neatest ponytail she could manage. She wasn't sure why, but she really wanted to project a softer image tonight, to showcase a more feminine side than the tough-talking, hard-drinking deputy that the captain had witnessed so far. She'd even added a rare touch of makeup to her face - a little mascara, a bit of shimmering peach eyeshadow and a hint of shiny mauve lip gloss - not that she was intending to kiss anyone tonight. It just seemed appropriate.

At quarter to seven, she scurried down the stairs, grabbed her tan leather jacket from the rack beside the front door and slipped out before her sister-in-law, Mary Margaret, could even say "have a good night". She'd decided it was best to drive to the harbor since the gathering clouds overhead were threatening a storm and the last thing she wanted to do was walk home through rain-swollen puddles in dress shoes. It was just before 7PM when she pulled her yellow Bug into a parking space opposite the Jolly Roger, and she couldn't quite figure out why she was experiencing increasing anxiety.

It was just a date. She'd been on dates before. Why was she suddenly so damned nervous?

Her heart was pounding as she ascended the gangplank, cursing her choice of footwear as her heels made an awful racket on the metal ramp. Once aboard, she noticed that there were a few lanterns illuminating the deck but there was little activity. She could hear the creaking of the old wood and the waves lapping against the hull, but not much else. It would appear that the captain had been true to his word about giving the crew a night off.

One individual was on the deck to greet her though and that was the jovial Mr. Smee. At the sight of her, he scrambled to get to the top of the gangplank before she did, offering a hand to aid her in stepping down onto the slippery wooden planking.

"So lovely to see you again, Deputy Swan," the first mate gushed, welcoming her with a huge smile. "The captain hasn't stopped talking about you all day and he's expecting you in his quarters."

"He's been talking about me, huh?" she responded with a nervous chuckle, thankful that the darkness of the night obscured her blushing.

"My goodness, yes, dear… He had Cookie prep a lovely meal for the two of you and,if I do say so myself, it smells absolutely divine!"

"Sounds wonderful."

"Well, now - right this way, Deputy," he instructed with an animated gesture towards the hatch she'd seen Killian Jones emerge from yesterday. Smee led the way and even raised the hatch for her. "Right down below, Miss. Just watch yer step…"

"Thank you, Mr. Smee," she replied, getting a look at the steep, angled ladder that descended into the Captain's quarters, wishing once again that she'd worn anything but heels tonight. She was also regretting her choice of attire as a sharp breeze across the stern nearly gave her an unwanted Marilyn Monroe moment. They were way too early in this relationship for her to be showing off her undergarments and she could only hope that her date was enough of a gentleman to allow her to descend this awkward ladder without peeking up her skirt.

The cozy room below was decorated with surprisingly eccentric style and smelled faintly of rum, candles and the musty scent of old books and maps. She found Killian in the center of the chamber with his back to her, lighting the second of two slender, ruby red taper candles atop a sturdy looking wooden table. In addition to the candles, the table was set with two plates that appeared to be actual fine china, flatware that was likely real silver as it has just the slightest blemish of tarnish and two crystal goblets. A pair of matching wooden armchairs with brocade seat cushions flanked the table and in the center of the display sat a silver ice bucket containing a bottle of wine he'd brought out to chill.

"Good evening, Swan," he greeted her, spinning around to face her with a single, long stemmed red rose clutched in his prosthetic left hand. "For you, Love." He extended the mechanical hand toward her, offering the flower that she accepted with a blushing grin.

"Thank you," she replied as she brought the bloom to her nose, inhaling its fragrance. "No hook this evening?"

"I decided to go with a softer persona this evening, although if you prefer the other attachment, I'll be happy to swap them."

"A softer persona? Were you afraid of intimidating me?" she asked him with a snicker.

"Well, I do cut an intimidating figure, do I not?"

She wasn't entirely certain if he was being serious or facetious but with a challenge like that, she couldn't help but give him a visual once-over. He'd traded out the black denim from yesterday for a pair of black dress trousers which he'd paired with a black wool sweater that hugged the curve of his biceps almost indecently. Her brain immediately reminded her about his off-the-cuff comment yesterday about seeing anything she liked and right now, she only had one answer - yes. She was enjoying everything she was seeing.

"Still full of yourself, I see," she quipped as he ushered her to one of the armchairs so she could sit down.

"Merely confidence, Love," he assured her with a sinful smirk as he withdrew the dark green glass wine bottle from its icy bath. "Would you care for some wine? I have this lovely vintage chilling here, but if you prefer, there's always plenty of rum."

"After last night, I think I'll start off slow. Some wine would be perfect." As she took her seat, he yanked the cork from the wine bottle using his teeth, filling her goblet before his own.

"My cook will be here momentarily with tonight's repast. I do hope that you enjoy seafood as I inadvertently failed to ask."

"I grew up in New England so I think seafood was one of the main food groups - at least if frozen fish sticks and tater tots count."

"Ah, a classic combination," he chuckled. "This may be a trifle more haute cuisine though."

"I certainly hope so, Captain, or I'll be sadly disappointed in your standards," she countered sarcastically as she took a sip from her glass, quickly realizing that if his taste in wine was any indication, dinner should be an absolute treat.

In fact, the only real disappointment Emma experienced that night was that it had to come to an end. The food was delicious and the wine he'd selected complemented it perfectly. This roguish captain surprised her at every turn. For all of his posturing and machismo, she'd found Killian Jones to be a perfect gentleman and a well-educated, excellent storyteller. True or not, he'd entertained her with tales of his voyages around the globe and when he'd finished, he listened intently to her exploits. She'd not been on a date this enjoyable in a very long time but unfortunately, tomorrow was still a work day so she knew she needed to wind things down.

"Well, Captain Jones," she began with a deep sigh, "you do indeed know how to show a girl a good time, but unfortunately, my time is running short."

"Alas, the real world interferes," he replied disparagingly. He was enjoying the evening as much as she was, but he knew that they each still had duties to attend to in the morning. "We wouldn't want you turning into a pumpkin at midnight, now would we?"

"I can assure you, I've never turned into a pumpkin… A bear, maybe, but never a pumpkin... But yeah…, sometimes the real world sucks."

"In Storybrooke, I would hesitate to take any unnecessary chances at the witching hour."

His choice of words caught her attention and for a moment, unnerved her until she recalled that she'd been toying with Magic last night at the Rabbit Hole. He'd probably observed her for a while, deciding if it was safe to approach, but clearly not adverse to her powers.

"I really hope we might be able to do this again before you set sail," she mentioned, hopefully that he'd be open to the suggestion.

"I can certainly make that happen, Love. We're awaiting supplies from another ship that has been delayed by a foul Nor'easter. We won't be leaving port for a few days, at the very least. Just let me know when you're free and I can make arrangements to be there."

"You can just drop everything for a date?" she wondered.

"It's good to be the Captain," he assured her with a wily smirk.

"I'm sure it is," she smiled broadly. This man was just too much. "Well, Captain, I will let you know when I have some free time. I'd really like to do this again."

"As would I, Swan. Now, how about I walk you out to your vehicle?"

"Actually, as wonderful as that sounds, I'm going to walk myself out so I'm less likely to give in to temptation. After being burned one too many times before, I'd rather not rush into anything…"

"Then I shall bid you goodnight, Emma. Until we meet again?"

"Absolutely." There was no way she wasn't going to plan a second date with Killian Jones but she was treading cautiously with both potential romances. The spell promised that she'd discover true love but it didn't say it would be easy.

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #witch emma #a simple spell #with a side of three naughty piggies

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bedbellyandbeyond · 6 years ago

Photo

Breakfast in Bed

(Story Post)

A week into his wolf cycle again, Nathan was finding himself worrying more and more about his upcoming bed rest. He wasn't sure if the nursery was 100% ready, he felt like he needed to be planning more for the big day, and he was worried about the garden at the cabin wilting while it was unattended. It would wilt anyway since it was now early November, but Kent had left clear instructions on how to prep it for the winter but Nathan wasn't home to do it. He'd convinced Nari to go take a look at it sometimes but he only agreed to do so at night on weekends. One such weekend morning, Nathan was sleeping out his exhaustion from the week and missed breakfast service. He didn't mind, he knew he could go crazy at lunch so he was surprised when someone came knocking on his APID door. When he opened it, Pierce was there with a plate and a smile. “Morning!” Pierce said. “I hope I didn't wake you up.”

“No, I just got up and I was doing a bit of reading…” Nathan said. “What's up?” “Well, um, I volunteered to serve breakfast this morning, but when I didn't see you at breakfast, I figured you might still want it and I brought some for you,” Pierce said holding up the plate of pancakes and sausage. “Being a werewolf must drain a lot of energy and I remembered you ate a lot of meat when we first saw each other here, and, I'm sorry, I'm rambling…” “Don't worry about it,” Nathan said opening the door more. “Thanks for the food… I really am pretty hungry. Do you want to come in?” “Uh, if that's alright,” Pierce said stepping in and handing over the plate. “So you live here on nights when you turn into a werewolf, is that correct?” “Yeah, the cycle started about a week ago…” Nathan rubbed the back of his neck. “At the end of the cycle though, I'll be here anyway on bed rest…” “Oh, really? That seems a little soon,” Pierce said. “Is something wrong?” “Yeah. I'm pregnant,” Nathan half joked. “But, seriously, just the fact that I have a womb but no vagina makes it a very high risk pregnancy.” “Wow. That's um… That's a lot of information,” Pierce said blushing. “So then, I'm sure you'd like to spend the rest of your morning resting then?” “Well, I wanted to use the day to write out my usual schedule with the students for the substitute…” Nathan said going over to the bed. “Actually, while you're here, could you grab my laptop from my bag over there? I'm not great at bending over anymore…” “Oh, sure!” Pierce grabbed Nathan's bag off the floor, brought it over and took out the laptop. “I'm, um… I'm actually going to be taking over your class for the year.” “You? Really? But who will be vice principal?” Nathan asked. “Well, I'll still be VP but Ms. Liu will be absorbing some of my afternoon duties,” Pierce said. “We're a team. We'll make it work.” Nathan blanched. “You weren't able to find anyone else? Are you sure this will work?” Pierce put up his hands. “Nathan, calm down. It's going to be just fine. We have it covered. In fact, I'm not used to being a VP. It'll be refreshing to be back in the classroom again.” Nathan rubbed his head. “Jesus, Pierce… Why do you work so hard? Just thinking about you being a VP and a teacher and volunteering here… I'd go into cardiac arrest.” Pierce chuckled. “But I love it. And if you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life.” “As nice as that sounds, it's still work and a man can only work so hard before…expiring,” Nathan stated. “If anyone needs to rest, it sounds like it should be you.” “Naw… Don't worry about it,” Pierce said. “I take breaks… Like visiting you today.” Nathan raised an eyebrow. “You're serving me food and you're still in your apron.” “But I'm supposed to be doing dishes,” Pierce said. “So it is a break.” “Uh huh…” Nathan started eating some pancakes. “These are pretty good…” “Yeah, the chefs really don't skimp on quality,” Pierce said. “They say the chef has like super taste buds so he can tell if there's even the slightest thing off with the food. Sometimes though he takes too long trying to perfect the recipes.” Nathan chuckled in response and ate a bit more. “…I guess it's better you cover my class than a stranger since you already know the kids.” Pierce nodded. “I already know the routine and whose got allergies and which kids can't sit together.” Nathan smiled. “I'm going to miss the kids… I've never been with a more special group. All those kids know what it's like to be different and they work so well together because they're just so keen to learn about each other.” “What better staff to teach them than a bunch of people doing the exact same thing?” Pierce pointed out. “I love the group we have. I feel like most of us can consider each other friends. I've never been on a faculty so ready to have each other's back.” “That's true… Nari, Dax and you have been the most help to me. I feel like I can trust you guys… Frankly when I first was contacted by APID I thought it was a joke,” Nathan said chuckling. He had to hold his side though as laughter jostled his stomach too much. “And then when I saw my first alien, I believed them but then I was still very distrustful… It took me a while to warm up to my case workers but it's the people that really make you feel at home.” “Yeah, I get that… I mean, I remember when my mother told me I'd be summering at a facility in Canada,” Pierce said. “I was so scared and it was the first time I'd ever been away from her for so long. But they made me feel at home here so I can't appreciate it more.” Nathan smiled and looked down at the plate of pancakes. “Well, I shouldn't keep you from your duties. I'll bring back the plate when I'm done.” “Well, I mean my shift's pretty much over, so I can wait… That way you don't have to go the way,” Pierce offered. “Do you want to watch a movie with me then?” Nathan asked. Pierce blinked. “Really? Sure. I'd love to.” Nathan patted the bed beside him and pulled up Netflix on his laptop and picked a film. Pierce sat down and slid up against the back of the bed. He sat quietly most of the movie, so Nathan figured he was pretty focused on the plot so he didn’t bother him while he finished his plate. With so much sitting however, it wasn't long before the twins started rolling about and he felt queasy. He rubbed his stomach gently trying to calm them down but it only seemed to excite them more. “Are they… Are they moving?” Pierce asked. “Yeah..” Nathan groaned. “I’m supposed to like it I think but at the same time, they just make me feel sick… The doc says it’s because one is pushed up against my actual stomach so when they move, it literally upsets my stomach…” “Oh, that really sucks…” Pierce said. “Does anything help to settle them?” “Yeah, walking around and stuff but I need sit down solutions…” Nathan said. “I just try rubbing which sometimes works, sometimes makes it worse, like now…” “Well, could I try?” Pierce asked. “I want to help.” “Uh, sure…” Nathan slipped up his shirt, exposing his belly. He motioned over his stomach. “One’s lying like this… The other’s underneath them right now. At least, I think that’s how it feels… Last appointment, this was their general position.” “Okay…” Pierce reached out a hand and lightly placed it on Nathan’s stomach. He started moving it around, but he didn’t really keep the pressure even. Nathan started giggling a bit. “Pierce… Oh my god, that tickles… That’s…not helping…” Pierce pulled his hand away. “Ah! I’m sorry!” “You’re nervous,” Nathan said. “Why are you nervous? You’ve touched my stomach before.” “Yeah, but it wasn’t moving before,” Pierce said. “I just…it’s strange on my hand when it moves…” “Wow. You baby…” Nathan took Pierce’s hand and placed it right where he was feeling the most movement. “Do you feel that?” Pierce held his breath as he felt something inside press against his hand. “That’s crazy… That’s inside you.” “Yeah, it's wild,” Nathan said. He looked at Pierce and squinted a bit. “I've been curious for a bit… How old are you?” “Me? Twenty-nine.” “Oh. Okay, I was starting to wonder if you were younger than me,” Nathan said. “But you're still pretty young for a VP.” “Yeah, I feel that,” Pierce said. “It makes it harder for parents to take me seriously I think… But I do my best.” He took his hand away. “How old are you?” “Twenty-seven,” Nathan said. “So in adult terms, we're about the same age.” “Yeah, that's cool. How old did you think I was?” Pierce asked. “Honestly, I don't know,” Nathan said. “Because it didn’t feel like you could be younger than me because of the VP thing, but then you sort of act a bit younger than the rest of us… Not like in maturity, but you get more excited about things than anyone else I'd say.” “What's not to be excited about?” Pierce asked. “With the people we work with, and the kids, every day holds new surprises and I can't wait.” “Well… I admire your positivity…” Nathan said. “But for me, I think I'm just a little more scared of what's going to happen next.” “Well… Maybe, you could use an extra hand,” Pierce said, his own hand sliding onto Nathan’s shoulder. “It’s just not easy to do these things alone.” “Yeah… The doc thinks I should try dating,” Nathan sighed. “But I just… I feel like my emotions are really…complicated with all these hormones. Not to mention, he also told me that being a werewolf gives off these pheromones that, like, makes people attracted to me, so I'd hate to think that someone only likes me just because I'm a werewolf. And I don't feel attractive right now…” “Well… I mean you are attractive,” Pierce stated. “…I, uh… Well, I just feel like people are smarter than pheromones. Like sure, it maybe makes them a little more attracted to you, but then they still have the ability to think about what they actually like about you, like your smile and your work ethic and your tenacity…” Nathan huffed. “Thanks, but, if I'm to believe the father of these kids, it was pure pheromones that got me pregnant because we absolutely hated each other.” “Really?” Pierce blinked. “So did he leave you alone like this?” Nathan waggled his head back and forth. “In a way… He's dead.” “Dead?” Pierce inhaled. “What happened?” “Capital punishment happened.” “Here?!” “Texas,” Nathan sighed. “Jesus… So like…do you like bad boys or something?” Pierce asked. “No. I told you we hated each other,” Nathan said. “But he's also like a were-person as well, and according to him, I was in heat and he couldn't control his bear with those kinds of pheromones about so I'm supposed to believe him… I don't know, it seems stupid to me. I shouldn't even be telling my VP this… God, I'm so stupid.” “No, it's okay,” Pierce said. “I don't think you're stupid. Things happen and sometimes we don't have control over it. You're a nice guy and anyone would be lucky to be with you.” Nathan smiled and rested his head on Pierce's shoulder. “Geez, you're so positive. How are you single?” “Aha, I'm not all that…” Pierce said. “No one would ever want me…” “What? Why would you think that?” Nathan asked. “Well, I mean look at me,” Pierce said. “They'd probably be scared I'd bite them or something…” “So… You've never been with anyone?” Nathan asked. “Ever?” Pierce shook his head. “…No. Never.” “So you've never…” “I haven't even kissed another person before.” “Pierce… I mean, I'm surprised, but I hope you don't think you don't deserve it,” Nathan said. Pierce was silent. “Oh, no. Come on,” Nathan said, sitting up straight again. “You have so much to offer. You're handsome, fun, very hard working, and basically the nicest person. If you're really worried about your teeth, trust me, there are people who are into that.” Pierce blushed and rubbed his neck. “Thanks, Nathan… I mean, it's not really just my teeth… I don't think I let myself get close to people because…I don't know, I'm worried I won't be able to…perform like I should.” “Why's that?” Nathan asked. “Well, um… It's complicated,” Pierce explained. “I just…don't think I want sex as much as normal people… It kind of scares me and I just feel like whoever I date will have desires I can't keep up with.” “What if you date someone like you?” Nathan offered. “There are other people who feel the same way.” “But, at the same time, I just don’t know what I like yet,” Pierce said. “Because I haven't tried it yet…” “That's true,” Nathan said. “But it sounds like you won't be happy unless you find an emotional connection with someone first. So look for that. Worry about the sex stuff later. Someone who really loves you will understand.” “Yeah… I suppose you're right,” Pierce said. “I just need the right person.” “Same,” Nathan sighed. “But right now, I feel like I can only concentrate on baking these buns to completion.” He rubbed his stomach caringly. “What a mess they're coming into… But I'm doing my best.” “Yeah, you are. Keep it up.” Pierce picked up Nathan's plate. “So, uh, I'm gonna run this back. I have to start prepping for lunch.” “Alright,” Nathan nodded. “Thank you for that again. Very good breakfast. I haven't had someone bring me breakfast in bed in a long time.” “Well, you deserve it,” Pierce said heading to the door. “See you.” “Bye.”

#lore #mpreg #Nathan #Pierce #werewolf #half-alien

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nikatyler · 6 years ago

Photo

When I finished my exam today, I was really excited and full of energy but now all of that is gone and I’m starting to see how stressful this day has actually been. I’m so incredibly tired! I went to bed at 11 pm yesterday, fell asleep quite quickly, woke up again at midnight. I slept until 4 am and then I kept waking up and falling asleep in what I believe were really short intervals. I don’t know which of these nightmare scenarios I had were actual nightmares and which ones I came up with thanks to overthinking. It was some crazy shit - one of them, probably the craziest one, I actually shared on twitter yesterday. For a little bit, I was worried that I would wake up without the ability to read or write. And even though I know that’s impossible, I was so worried and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Thing is, my anxious perfectionist brain always jumps to “either you do well on this or you die” mindset. Which then leads to me being stressed out days before and doing crazy things because of that. Just to name a few: I unfollowed a lot of blogs because following so many was driving me insane. I muted a bunch of people on twitter and called it self care even though it was probably just petty. Last but not least, I’m generally more mean and insensitive than I usually am these days and I hate that but also, I just can’t help it. (hey please if I was mean to you, don’t give up on me, it’ll get better again I swear) So yeah, fun times. Can’t wait for it to be finally June so all of this is over.

To quote my favourite musical: hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon, college will be paradise if I’m not dead by June.

Onto those replies now.

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “So…I was just casually setting up another scene, posing the sims and...”

This is DESTINY of this generation - trying to die (hard)

Just wait for when I focus on Regan. That girl is...going in her parents’ footsteps. I swear it’s not my fault. Seriously. I would never want for any of my important legacy sims to die.

Okay well, I might have planned to kill off Tyler at one point like year and a half ago but we don’t talk about that. Ever. Not since that dumb “one year with Rose triplets” thing. Don’t worry about it.

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Unfortunately, it didn’t help. Again, sims logic. Don’t question it....”

NO MIRACLE NO

Miracles shouldn't die!

How dare you!

When I said "don't return to aliens" I didn't mean "die instead"

pxelblobs replied to your photoset “Unfortunately, it didn’t help. Again, sims logic. Don’t question it....”

Noooo Miracle!

I knew that sims could burn to death if the weather is too hot and everything, but it has never happened to me and I certainly didn’t expect it to happen now. I was freaking out. That was not how I wanted her story to end.

Then I went to twitter and asked people what they want me to do, but before the poll ended, I actually decided that nope, I can’t do this, she has to stay alive. By the way, if I remember correctly, people voted for leaving her dead. Sooo...yeah.

harmoniouspixels replied to your post “WAIT HOLD UP IS MIRACLE LIKE DEAD DEAD”

I guess I wasn't paying too much attention until this ask BUT MIRACLE'S DEAD WTF

Lmao I can see this happening to me. In fact, it has definitely happened to me before - just casually scrolling down my dash, not paying attention to anything (which is why I never go to my dash anymore) at all and then suddenly I realize - wait a minute, when did that sim die?! What did I miss?

alfalfalegacy replied to your photoset “Yeah well, Adam, maybe you could’ve done something when you still had...”

Will Smith voice: It's rewind time

I laughed so hard at this because I literally made the same joke a few posts later. Great minds think alike! *let’s pretend I’m a great mind ok, at least for a few seconds*

treason-and-plot replied to your post “WAIT HOLD UP IS MIRACLE LIKE DEAD DEAD”

This game is so cruel

Yup.

It couldn’t have happened to like...I don’t know. Esme during the uni storyline. Or Fred during James’s storyline. Guys, do you remember Fred the mustache guy? Good old times.

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Adam: “Hmmm, I wonder what I should do?”

I just thought... IT'S A BEACH THERE IS PLENTY OF WATER AROUND

I KNOW

THAT’S WHAT BOTHERED ME THE MOST IT LITERALLY DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE

*slow clap for sims logic*

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “At least she gets a nice gravestone…I guess. Aaand the dog is useless...”

simlovinggirl replied to your photoset “At least she gets a nice gravestone…I guess. Aaand the dog is useless...”

I can't believe she died this way! :'(

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Miracle baby oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t want this to happen I’m...”

:( :( :(

alfalfalegacy replied to your photoset “Miracle baby oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t want this to happen I’m...”

�� poor miracle

The only thing I really enjoyed about this is that these posts fell on the weekend before April 1st. I know this isn’t something to be laughed at...but the timing was so perfect. If I had planned this, it wouldn’t have worked.

Then again, let’s be real, I wouldn’t have planned this. This is just cruel.

alfalfalegacy replied to your photoset “Worry not, Adam. The Grim Reaper might be cruel but I’m the one who’s...”

Whew I'm glad she's still alive

simlovinggirl replied to your photoset “Worry not, Adam. The Grim Reaper might be cruel but I’m the one who’s...”

PHEW!!!!!

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Worry not, Adam. The Grim Reaper might be cruel but I’m the one who’s...”

Yay!

I’ve never been more excited to quit without saving

whysimstho replied to your photoset “Lydia: “Sorry I’m late! I didn’t mean to, I promise. Siblings got in...”

"Oh yeah and my mom died in an alternate reality but it's cool, it's cool."

I mean, she’s definitely heard about all the crazy shit that has happened to her family over the years, so maybe it doesn’t seem as a big deal to her anymore.

It’s been a while since I last said Roses are a mess but they really are a huge mess lmao

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “cloudberry-sims: ???: Sorry but you can’t read that book yet! Stone:...”

Zillah will most likely appear after I finish Strangerville!

Yay! You don’t have to rush though, as long as she appears one day, it’s cool. It’s just a little sad when I spend a lot of time working on a sim and then the person who requested them never uses them.

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “This girl is no longer on fiyah, fiyaaaaah”

Next time you try to die don't do it, okay?

Oh trust me I’ll keep an eye on her from now on

It’s what Caleb would have wanted

wait did I just make myself cry thinking about this

dreamsongsims replied to your photoset “I’m still not sure why she’s doing martial arts. Like yeah, I wanted...”

That moment when you just can't remember what your plans were for your sim! I have that a lot. LOL

I guess I do kinda remember the purpose for the story, the problem is...I don’t actually understand why I did it that way?

create-a-sim replied to your photo “someday i’ll be famous and you’ll have to admit you were wrong.”

Wow, this looks super cool!

Thank you! I really enjoyed working on this. It’s just one of the many outcomes of my “Tyler gets famous” headcanons, which by the way are one of my favourite things to think about these days.

onemoreordinarysimblr replied to your photo “Am I late to the party?”

Very cute!

alfalfalegacy replied to your photo “I had to do another one.”

This is a nice looking room!!

berrysweetboutique replied to your photo “I had to do another one.”

They're too fun and this is way cute ♥

Thank you guys! I really enjoy the idea of this. I’m definitely not done with this trend yet! ♥

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photo “please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh i could recognize...”

Oh it sucks that that person isn't around anymore(( losing friends is always hard

Btw, the edit is really cute!

Yeah...I was going through my old posts yesterday, saw some asks and got sad about this again. I miss talking daily to a person who was so much like me in so many ways. I don’t want to go into details but yeah...never thought I could miss a person I’ve never actually met and here I am.

desira-sims replied to your post “�� ?”

I feel ya on the bands. My music tastes seems to go from one extreme to the next.

It’s so hard to limit yourself to just one genre! I don’t understand how some people can do this. Well, I don’t actually believe such people exist...everyone has their “guilty pleasure” and no one will change my mind.

desira-sims replied to your post “I associate you with Ross and Caleb :D (i really need to catch up on...”

This is 100% me.

It’s clear, if a sim wants to be the mascot of my blog, they have to be a bisexual disaster.

I mean, when I look at myself, that makes sense. I myself am one big bisexual disaster.

mellowaliens replied to your post “Tomorrow, I’m taking my first graduation exam. It’s a writing one, so...”

Good luck hon!

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your post “Tomorrow, I’m taking my first graduation exam. It’s a writing one, so...”

Good luck! ❤️ You can do it!

desira-sims replied to your post “Tomorrow, I’m taking my first graduation exam. It’s a writing one, so...”

Good luck!!! Sending positive vibes your way.

whysimstho replied to your post “Tomorrow, I’m taking my first graduation exam. It’s a writing one, so...”

Good Luck!

audrey-rosewadsworth replied to your post “Tomorrow, I’m taking my first graduation exam. It’s a writing one, so...”

GOOD LUCK

audrey-rosewadsworth replied to your post “Tomorrow, I’m taking my first graduation exam. It’s a writing one, so...”

I BELIEVE IN YOUUUU

poisonfireleafs replied to your post “Hey hi hello guess who survived the exam? It went better than I...”

Good luck tomorrow :)

*hugs* Thank you so much guys. ♥

desira-sims replied to your post “Good morning guys, I'm still freaking out about the exam. I'm taking...”

Just take deep breath and don’t stress too much. You’ll do great on the exam. Congrats on your milestone!

I started feeling so much better when I left home. I went out and I was like okay, I can’t do much about this anymore, can I? And then I met up with my friend at the bus stop and we just talked and suddenly I wasn’t scared anymore because I realized we’re all in this together - the two of us, the rest of our class and all the other 80 000 (or something) students in our country who were taking the exam as well.

My biggest problem was that the exam started at 12.30 and ended at like 2.30 pm. If it had been in the morning, I wouldn’t have had so much time to worry about it. Thank the lord that’s the case with the English exam tomorrow, it starts at 8 am which is an okay school time for me - on a normal day, classes start at 7.50.

Also, thank you! ♥

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your post “Hey hi hello guess who survived the exam? It went better than I...”

Yay, congrats!

desira-sims replied to your post “Hey hi hello guess who survived the exam? It went better than I...”

Woot woot!

mellowaliens replied to your post “Hey hi hello guess who survived the exam? It went better than I...”

Good luck and congrats!

Now I’ll have to wait for the results...that’s gonna be fuuuuuun.

By the way, people are already making memes based on the topics and I enjoy that. People who didn’t take the exam can’t understand, but it’s really funny, I swear.

simlovinggirl replied to your photoset

awwwwww! ♥ ♥ ♥

They’re definitely among the cutest couples I have in my game right now! ♥

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “Courtney: “Uhh…” Regan: “Wait. You…you guys? You’re like…” Felix: “Not...”

Well I kinda shipped themXD

I must admit that I didn’t at first, but then I noticed it could work. Whenever Regan said something bad about Felix, Courtney defended him, and so I thought...what if they went to uni together? Could they fall in love? Turns out they could :D

#replies #tiny-tany-thaanos #pxelblobs #harmoniouspixels #alfalfalegacy #treason-and-plot #whysimstho #dreamsongsims #create-a-sim #onemoreordinarysimblr #berrysweetboutique #desira-sims #mellowaliens #audrey-rosewadsworth #poisonfireleafs #simlovinggirl

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mariosomething · 5 years ago

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MISTAKES I MADE AS A COMIC OR NOTICED AS A BOOKER...

(NOTE: Never say never, but I can’t imagine getting back on stage again. However, now that comedy is returning to clubs--and potentially booming here in Austin--I think this is worth repeating. Especially #15. Enjoy!)

So, I might be hopping on stage again for my own, personal reasons. Number one being distraction from the crushing loneliness that comes with self-employment. Woo! On the first page of my newly-purchased comedy notebook, I started making a list of things I don’t want to do this time around. The comic I don’t want to be, should I continue performing. Getting in my own way with unfounded beliefs about my abilities or lack thereof. I will—NO DOUBT—repeat some of the following blunders out of muscle memory, and if you catch me doing so, by all means, call me out! In no particular order:

1- Worrying about who’s heard this bit before. One cure for this is to never stop writing new stuff. Also, it’s the JOB of a comedian to repeat the same shit with the same zeal and sincerity for different crowds…crowds that probably don’t attend comedy shows as often as we perform on them.

2- Worrying about making the comics laugh. This is still the hallmark of a great comic to me…the person we’ve all seen before but stop the chit-chat when they get on stage. It’s the opposite of a “crowd-pleaser.” In a perfect world, I can please both—as some do��but ultimately, we don’t get paid to make the back of the room laugh. If I’m building a half-hour, those comics may ‘check out’ during my set, and that’s to be expected. If I concern myself with their approval, I’m ignoring the audience, and by extension, disrespecting them. THEY bought a ticket. They deserve my best attempt.

3- Starting your act with a risky joke. Are there exceptions for these “rules” of mine? Absolutely. But they are just that…exceptions. This one always drove me nuts when I ran the Velv. Especially when the rest of one’s act is relatively benign! Would you lead with your “crazy” on a first date? Talk about all of your flaws on a job interview? Or with music you like…if I wanted to get you into Tom Waits, I’m not gonna recommend The Black Rider—an album only die-hard fans might appreciate. I’d start with something accessible, like Small Change or Rain Dogs. Get them on your side first with your palatable stuff, then give ‘em what you want. (Now go listen to Tom Waits’ Small Change and Rain Dogs.)

4- Worrying about looking stupid. This is the big one for me. Even though I KNOW the audience WANTS us to look foolish; even while I KNOW they want us to be both vulnerable and confident about it, I have a crippling fear of embarrassment. And this is NOT a good quality for any comedian. I learned that words account for only 7% of communication. The rest is body language, facial expressions and tone. I’ve always hidden behind my words, and have given up on bits that require me to be more animated. So dumb. Which leads me to…

5- Not doing enough ‘act-outs’ in bits. When I watch amazing comedians, they all have this in common. They perform or act-out dialogue. More show than tell. They don’t just recite jokes or one-liners. Even Steven & Mitch & Todd do/did act-outs in their own, low-energy styles. When you start looking for them, they’re everywhere. So much rolling, sustained laughter derives from act-outs. They don’t have to be BIG, they just have to be well-delivered.

6- Writing what I think they might like, not what I like. Another big ‘duh’ but worth repeating. I fell in this trap on the road. I was lovingly told to “write a dick joke already!” when I was a new, quasi-clever comic. And man alive, did I ever make up for it! Some may have had a fake nose and mustache, but they were dick jokes nonetheless, and I wasn’t proud. But they got laughs, and more laughs meant better comment cards, which meant return visits. Awesome way to remain a road comic…shitty way to evolve or get industry to pay attention. It’s also a fast track to burnout. If you’re not doing stuff you like, resentment builds and ambition wanes.

7- Not having goals. A new, tight 10 minutes is my goal today. If that goes well, a new 30. Then maybe an album. When I DID have things to strive for, they “magically” happened. I kept comedy goal lists on my wall, and most came to fruition. Then I got in my head and stopped making those lists. The more I was learning about the biz, the more inadequate I felt. I stopped writing, stopped going to mics and eventually stopped touring. With no new goals, I lost steam and confidence. I was a competent middle, but a spotty headliner…THAT is my ceiling for now. I’d love to be a rock-solid, reliable closer with at least one killer album to show for it. It’s feasible, but I need to start with that initial aim of a new, polished, consistent 10 minutes that I like.

8- Not watching more pros. Something that baffles me about so many new comics. You have the option to catch A-list comedians for FREE at Cap City, your home club, etc…why would you not take advantage? You learn by watching pros, even if it’s what NOT to do. Or what’s being done to death. You can learn structure, pacing, opening and closing. I used to watch comics I knew I wouldn’t like, but came away with respect for how they did things. People forget or don’t know that the late, great Bill Hicks used to be a clean-ish, set-up/punch kinda comedian. He learned the rules so he can break them effectively. Even at his viscous best, he was still super-polished. It’s respect for the craft, dammit. All of your heroes have it.

9- Getting jealous of your friends’ progress. There is sooo much leap-frogging in this business, there’s no need to denigrate yourself for not keeping pace with a peer. “Comedy is the closest thing there is to justice,” according to Colin Quinn, and I 100% agree. If you’re funny, consistently funny, you will get work. Period. When producers run and book shows, they want reliability more than anything. There is no island of misfit-but-actually-brillant comedians out there, waiting to be discovered. Funny gets noticed by EVERYbody. If you’re not getting booked, start looking inward. Seriously. When Cap City demoted me from headliner, I didn’t fight it. I thought they were right to do so because I knew my 50 minutes was about 15 shy of reliable material. Challenge your beliefs about your own act. Maybe you’re better than you think, but maybe it’s just the opposite. It’s worth asking, “What am I doing wrong?” if you’re having trouble getting past open mics. Maybe you are indeed funny, but still too green or inconsistent. Maybe you had a bad showcase set and your friend killed. Your friend may get Montreal before you, but you might get a manager first. You just don’t know! Keep plugging away, because there’s too much out of your control.

10- Not being humble. Jeezus H. Christmas, where did all of this unearned confidence come from?? Not only will I never relate to this, I will continue to chastise and scoff at it. Don’t assume your shit is crushed fruit, especially when you’re new. Don’t trash talk other comics, it WILL bite you in the ass eventually. Or immediately in some cases. Don’t think you’re immediately entitled to the same things that other comics took years to obtain or achieve. There is always something to learn, even from people you disagree with…it’s the definition of being open-minded. There are comics I detest personally, but goddamn if they aren’t great performers/writers. And I’ll probably get push-back for this, but I never called myself a “comedian” until I was able to quit my day job. Until that happened, I was just a dude who “did comedy.” I wanted to earn that title, don’t you?? Skip the business cards and build your act.

11- Not taking chances on stage. I’ve heard from too many comedians that if you’re always killing up there, you’re not taking chances. When I booked a room, I wanted to reward comics who tried new stuff every open mic, or was tweaking it. If a comic kept going up with well-worn bits, I ignored them for a few weeks or longer, even if they got laughs. It’s open mic, the point is to experiment! When I worked the road, I stopped doing mics when I was back in town. Big mistake. I was afraid to try untested jokes in clubs on the road, and too lazy or complacent to take chances at open mics. I stunted my own growth.

12- All agenda, no punchlines. I remember watching a well-known comic in NY struggle with Jesus jokes. He could NOT have been in a more welcoming arena for such, but he wasn’t funny, just angry. So he said, “Oh, I guess you guys don’t like religious jokes,” To which my friend replied, “We do! We keep waiting for one.” I think comedians can be the most insightful people on the planet, and the great ones don’t berate, they put funny first. It just makes sense! If you really really really want your message to be heard, then it’s in your best interest to make it funny. Funny cuts through. Or maybe you just wanna use the stage as a soapbox, in which case, quit comedy.

13- Not presenting both sides. I once told an established headliner he couldn’t return to the Velv, despite the numbers. In fairness to us, it was Valentine’s Day weekend, we were packed anyway. He never gave me a chance to explain why, but here’s why: he was too angry about women and wasn’t self-deprecating enough to balance it out. Conversely, I had a female comedian come through a couple of times, and the bulk of her act is male-bashing, BUT, it’s tight and well-crafted and funny as shit…AND she sprinkles in enough self-effacing humor so as not to divide the crowd. If the guy I banned was her parallel, I would’ve re-booked him. But I’m a freak about balance. While I don’t believe ANY person or group of people is above criticism, you can’t just point fingers at others while patting yourself on the back.

14 - Not putting more of ‘me’ in my act. Trends are fun as a reference, but full bits built around them have a tiny shelf life. It’s fluff and filler at best. Relationships will never be hacky. Aging will never get old. Folks! We all have specific quirks or approaches to life in general, why not explore those approaches? That’s when a ‘comic’ graduates to ‘comedian.’ When they stop saying funny things and start saying things funny. Not my line, but damn accurate.**

15- Knee-jerk hating and never asking WHY? Okay, this one’s a personal lament. When I found comedy, I found harmony. Anyone funny was welcome. I didn’t see us as men or women or gay or straight or black or white, we were comics, and I fucking loved it. We were equals from every walk of life, and no jerks allowed! I found a circle of curious, liberal-minded pals who were always asking why. Friends who would call out each other’s bullshit or hypocrisy or bad bits, then laugh about it at Mugshots. Friends who preferred brutal truth over blowing smoke. It was bliss for someone who values sincere feedback and funny, earnest people. Comedians we respect and adore are always challenging norms of behavior and tradition. Pryor, Chapelle, Carlin, Rock, of course, but even Larry David, who’s the king of offending people by rejecting small, societal niceties.

I’m starting to see too much division and moral cowardice in comedy--on and off stage--and this is antithesis to its value, in my opinion. Everything I hated about high school. Cliques and whispers and spiteful exclusion. I will echo what I wrote earlier: NOBODY IS ABOVE CRITICISM. This is the salty to the sweet of “Everyone welcome.” Comedy is a LOT of failing, tons of real-time rejection, and that SUCKS. But if you think it has anything to do with anything but your act, you’re not asking Why. It’s easier to say, “Well, it’s clearly ‘cos I’m ________.” Really? Maybe it’s ‘cos you’re not funny, or not funny YET. Maybe it’s because you haven’t written a new joke in months, or refuse to change the ones that never work. Maybe you think there are no rules to comedy, and you can just get up there and people will love you because so-and-so does it that way. Maybe you don’t have so-and-so’s natural talent or likability. Or work ethic. Or self-awareness. If your first response is to blame a crowd, a booker, society, or whatever, ask yourself: are there successful comics who look like me? Why them and not me? What are they doing differently? My first guess is: they’re addicted to the craft so they keep their head down and write and tweak and fail and ask why and learn from mistakes. Stop complaining and start paying attention. At the end of the day, you and you alone are responsible for your career. If you believe women aren’t funny, I pity your ignorance and sheltered life. If you think men have it easier, tell that to the thousands of male comics who go nowhere in this business.

Maybe I’m an idealist hippy dippy doofus, but I believe that what we admire about others is pretty universal stuff. Regarding comedy, we all like someone who’s fearless on stage. Confident but not cocky. Capable. Quick. Genuine. Someone who keeps writing and honing their act. Someone who connects with people. Someone who comes back once a year with 30 new minutes. Someone who plows forward, not consumed with the opinions of others. Are these gender or race-specific qualities?? Hardly. And when you’re a top shelf, A-list comedian who’s paid their dues, it’s all preference at that level. It’s Gin vs. Vodka vs. Bourbon vs. Tequila, no one is “better” than the next. Maria Bamford is Bill Burr is Dave Chapelle is Carrot Top. They’re all pros who never stop working.

I’ll leave you with this…Comedy is a powerful and special thing, and I’ve always been crazy-grateful to be part of this tiny, uniquely rewarding world. Even if this experiment crumbles after a few months, even if I can’t vanquish some personal demons, it’s been a pursuit I’ve yet to regret. If you’re just starting out, or five years in, or going on the road, relish every minute. Meet all the people. Make all the friends. Get over your fears, get over yourself and get better. xoxo mario

**This is how I first heard it. Comic/comedian or vice versa. You get it. Though I personally feel that “comedian” sounds more like an official title, while you can’t spell “comic” without “mic.” Just sayin’ is all.

#standupcomedy #comedy

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