#and then I remembered 'OH!! I HAVE PLAY DOH!!!' and now it's just me & this little thing passing the time <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[ineed-to-sleep]

My favorite thing about being an adult has got to be that I can literally just buy whatever I want and nobody can tell me shit about it. I bought a bunch of play-doh the other day and spent like an hour making a play-doh flower just to relax and I've never felt so free

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[oftlunarialmoon]

The Slime Trend- What It Is and Why It's Great For Neurodivergent People

originally posted to www.onlyfunthings.org on December 13, 2016

Ciao Lovelies! I bet at least one or two of you have heard of the "Slime Trend" recently. If not, I'll explain everything below! (Images Updated as of January 2019)

(UPDATED AS OF 1/21/19 CLICK ME FOR PART 2!)

So recently, the subject of slime- all types, fishbowl, iridescent, traditional, floam, glitter, crystal, etc- has been trending everywhere. Anywhere you look, you can find YouTube tutorials for how to create slime, find "stim" blogs on tumblr and plenty of gifs of slime, kinetic sand, and more. There are even entire Instagram accounts dedicated to videos of slime!

But what IS stim, or stimming, you might be wondering?

Well, let's let Wikipedia sum it up for us!

"Self-stimulatory behavior, also known as stimming and self-stimulation, is the repetition of physical movements, sounds, or words, or the repetitive movement of objects common in individuals with developmental disabilities and most prevalent in people with autism spectrum disorders. It is also commonly seen in people with anxiety disorders such as obsessive–compulsive disorder, ADHD, and Tourette syndrome, and in people with neurological disorders or brain infections" 

The Wikipedia article containing this information can be found HERE.

To summarize, stimming is some form of movement, sound, or texture that is common in neuro-divergent individuals and usually used to self soothe, control anxiety, or filter/block overwhelming sensations.

Autistic individuals are not the only people who stim, however. Some sufferers of anxiety stim to control themselves and calm down, often this manifests in behaviours like nail biting, hair twirling, or repetitive motions like rocking.

What does this mean in terms of the new slime (and other stimming toys) trend?

For one thing, it's good for neurodivergent people because now the things they do to relax are no longer stigmatized but seen as "normal" and acceptable. Colleges even have events around finals making "self-care" kits containing things like play-doh. While these are not advertised as "Stimming," many people use Play-Doh or other molding doughs and such to stim.

Another great thing coming from this trend is that it is opening up the discussions around being neurodivergent and normalizing the idea of talking about mental health. People are adknowledging that stress can be helped by non-conventional methods. Perhaps we are finally reaching the days where instead of someone saying "Oh, you're stressed? Just breathe! (or any other conventional method)", they would say "Well, try playing with some slime or chewing on a chewing necklace!"

Another great outcome of this "trend" is that stimming toys like chewing necklaces, fidget toys, tangles, kinetic sand, floam, and others are becoming much more common and inexpensive!

However, we need to ensure that this "trend" does not become offensive to autistic or neurodivergent individuals. All kinds of stimming are equally good, whether it's rocking, tapping, hand wringing or flapping, etc. If we are normalizing stimming methods like chewing and slime, we should also work to normalize non- "aesthetically pleasing" stimming!  

Thank you for reading, remember to love yourself, stay awesome, and I'll see you in our next post!

[giggly-squiggily]

OH THIS IS SO CUTE!!! CUTE CUTE CUTE BEYOND CUTE AHHHHHH! @nutzgunray-lvt Thank you so so much for this submission! I loved every word!

Here it is! I hope you like it! Since I headcanon Nelly's face claim to be Aimee Garcia, a Puerto Rican-Mexican American actress, I attributed that to Nelly as well.

How To Cure Jet Lag In One Easy Step

The smell of baked goods and cleaning products practically overwhelmed the house, as did Nelly's 'Now That's What I Call A Puerto Rican Christmas!' playlist. It wasn't doing a whole lot in helping Vlad get a handle on his roller-coaster of feelings and laundry list of things to do, but he figured that pretending his aunt was in the vicinity would help get his motivation going.

Unfortunately, the knowledge that she was currently in the trenches of a double shift at the hospital really killed the attempted immersion.

As did the timer for the cookies.

Growling in frustration at the contrasting smells and sounds, he switched off the music and turned off the timer. After he set his fifth batch of chocolate chip cookies on the already crowded kitchen table, he sank into his spot and put his head in his hands as he sighed heavily.

For glob's sake, why did his life have to be such a mess?

In between the existence of a vampire slayer who was hunting him down, his upcoming finals, his vampire homework, and the Christmas decorations that he promised Nelly he'd get a head start on, his brain felt like a used up, messy clump of Play Doh - and that wasn't even counting how he was adjusting to being back in the United States after his week in Siberia.

On top of adjusting back to the human sleep cycle that always left him the slightest bit grouchy, he also had jetlag to contend with. Jetlag and just under 24 hours of a sleepless flight that consisted of layover after layover.

It left him a frazzled, sleep deprived mess.

A brush against his leg startled him to the point that he banged his knee on the kitchen table, and the loud swear that left his mouth was one that he wasn't really sure if Otis would be proud of or disapproving of.

"Vladimir?"

And given how unimpressed his uncle appeared to be as he stood in the foyer, cradling a spooked Amenti in his arms, it appeared that he was the latter.

Great.

"It's not like I know what that word means, Uncle Otis," Vlad sheepishly tried justifying himself as he got up and went to give Amenti an apologetic scratch behind the ears. He was pleased to see her close her eyes and purr happily as she butted her head up into his hand.

Apology accepted, and he got cat purrs as well.

Nice.

"I heard Vikas say it once, and… I don't know, it just came to me. Look, aren't you more happy that I'm remembering spoken Elysian Code better?" he asked as he gave Amenti's nose bridge a gentle rub.

Vlad had thought that it wasn't possible for his uncle to look anymore unimpressed than he already was, but as he set Amenti down, the look he gave his nephew as he stood back up said it all.

"Remind me to remind Vikas to watch his language around you," Otis muttered moreso to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed heavily. "You may not technically be a child, but I won't tolerate any foul language coming out of your mouth, Elysian Code or not. Agreed?"

The teen barely held back from rolling his eyes as he nodded and echoed, "Agreed."

As the older vampire opened his eyes and straightened back up, his brow furrowed and his nose wrinkled as he finally caught the conflicting scents permeating the air as well as the sheer number of baked goods crowding the kitchen counters and tables.

"Vladimir…" he slowly asked as he approached the table and took a cookie for himself. "Why does the kitchen look like you're in the process of opening a bakery?" 

On any other day, a (relatively) well rested Vlad that wasn't battling jet lag and a large to-do list would have taken the question as it was: an admittedly leading question from an incredibly concerned uncle. But today, Vlad was battling jet lag and a large to-do-list, which made him suck his teeth in as he snapped, "Well it sounds to me like you already know the answer to that, don't you, Uncle Otis? You know I bake when I'm stressed, and given how you think I'm trying to go behind Nelly's back and open an at home bakery, I'm clearly really stressed out!"

He stormed into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, hugging a pillow to his face as he screamed into it. It… didn't do much to help him feel better, and really, it only made him feel ashamed at snapping at Otis the way he did. Since day one, his uncle was nothing but patient with him. From being accused of being a crazy murderer to nearly being blasted to kingdom come with the Lucis, he took it all in stride - even before he told him they were related.

When was he ever going to be a nephew that Otis would be proud of? 

From the way things were looking, It looked like it was going to be never.

As Vlad tried suffocating himself with the pillow, he could sense his uncle's swirling thoughts of guilt and worry before he entered the room. He could feel the pillow being pulled off his face and see how sad he truly was before he was exposed to light and air again, and he could tell what Otis was going to murmur before the words left his lips:

"You look exhausted, Vladimir. How much sleep have you gotten?"

The question was quietly asked with no force behind it, but it took the wind out of Vlad's sails all the same. He closed his eyes and muttered, "I don't know, Uncle Otis. I haven't been able to sleep since we got back from Siberia a few days ago, and-and with everything else going on like the finals and decorating the house and the slayer -"

"You're jet lagged," Otis patiently explained as he moved around the couch to sit by his nephew's legs. "You're already dealing with much more than a fifteen year old boy should have on his plate, and trying to readjust to the time zone difference isn't helping."

The teen grunted as he grabbed the pillow and placed it over his face again.

"Well, that along with the fact that I have to actually sleep at night now," he sniped, his voice muffled by the fabric. "It's hard, Uncle Otis. It's hard, and it's really not fair."

The sympathetic chuckle from the man in question made Vlad's scowl deepen, and before he could put up a proper fight, the pillow was once again snatched away from him. 

"We need to tackle one problem at a time, as well as divide and conquer, Vladimir," Otis explained. "Why don't I get started on the Christmas decorations while you get some sleep?"

The teen didn't mean to look so disgusted at his uncle's honestly helpful suggestion, but the way the man burst out laughing only made him double down even more, especially as he felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"I can't take a nap!" he protested. "I'm fifteen, not five! Fifteen year olds don't take naps! Besides, do you even know how to set up Christmas lights? You almost started a fire trying to make atole, so I think I should be on the lookout for more Uncle Otis mishaps, especially if they involve gas or electricity, wouldn't you say so?"

On any other day when Vlad's internal clock wasn't running thirteen hours behind, he would have realized that he made a horrible mistake in saying that. He would have noticed how his uncle's brow rose in amusement before he smiled - bared his teeth really - and went for the kill. But today - for the past few days - Vlad's internal clock was thirteen hours behind, so the only thing he noticed before his brain completely dissolved into goofy mush was the fingers gently but firmly digging into his ribs.

"Nohohoho Un-Uncle Otihihihis!" he screamed through his frantic laughter, his body twitching like he had just been struck by lightning. "What-WhatdidIdo?!" he hurriedly screeched as he tried and failed to pull his uncle's hands away from him.

"Why don't we run through them together, dear nephew of mine?" Otis playfully asked, chuckling when he spidered his fingers down to that terrible, awful spot on his lower ribs that turned his laughs into something resembling bird chirps. "First, you've had quite the foul mouth on you today. Second, there's the sass I got from you for expressing my concern about your wellbeing. Third, you're tired and jet lagged and this is the one way to help you go. To. Sleep."

He punctuated each point with a pinch to that awful, horrible spot, and what could Vlad do when that happened? He could do what he always did when that particular death spot of his was being attacked:

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing other than laugh, scream, squeal, flail around, and chirp like a bird.

"Why don't we go over your recent homework?" Otis asked conversationally, as if he wasn't being the evil uncle that Vlad first saw him as. "We can use that as a gauge to see whether or not you're ready to go to sleep. Won't that be fun, Vladimir?"

As the teen desperately nodded through his teary eyed, squeaky laughter, he gasped for air as the gentle yet agonizing pinches to his lower ribs came to an end. He rubbed his flushed face and took in air like had spent an eternity underwater, and after a minute, he gave his uncle a thumbs up.

"Alright then, where is the one continent in the world that vampires don't live -"

"Antarctica!" 

The way Otis evily smiled at him threw Vlad for a loop, and before he could protest - that was the right answer! - the spot right above his kneecap was being assaulted with awful squeezes, and the teen was a mess of shrill laughter.

"Bu-But wahahahait!" he frantically begged. "Tha-Thatwasright, thatwasright!"

"I never said you needed to give me the right answer, Vladimir," the older man wryly remarked as he scribbled his fingers behind Vlad's knees. "Why don't we move on to the next question?"

"Do-Do I eheheven have a chohoice?" The teen asked through his breathless giggling as his uncle gave him a reprieve.

"No, I'm afraid not," Otis answered with a smug smile. "I need concrete evidence that you're finally tired enough to go to sleep, and I also need to make sure you're keeping up with studying the Compendium. It kills two birds with one stone."

Vlad shook his head, though the smile on his face really said it all.

"You're evil, Uncle Otis. You know that?" he asked.

The man in question shrugged.

"You may have told me that a few times, but if my evil ways are what gets you to sleep, then so be it," he remarked. "Now for the next question… who is the youngest vampire to sit on the Grand Council since the Black Death, and what is the minimum age a vampire can be to be voted onto the Grand Council?"

Vlad's eyes widened, and before he could answer, his uncle's horrible hands shot up and under his shirt and his fingers began dancing across his belly.

"THAT'S-THAT'S TWO QUEHEHEHESTIONS!" Vlad shrieked through his hysterical laughter. "NOHOHOHOT FAHAHAIR! NOHOHOHO!"

"The clock is ticking, Vladimir!" Otis teased, poking and prodding at his nephew's stomach. 

"I CAHAHAN'T! I CAHAHAHAN'T!" the teen wailed, his laughter going near silent from how agonizingly ticklish everything was. "I GIHIHIVE UP! PLEHEHEASE!"

"Are you sure?" The older vampire teasingly asked, feeling a twinge sadistic as he scratched a finger into his nephew's belly button. "Are you absolutely sure that you don't know the answers to these questions?"

All Vlad could do was tap out like his very life depended on it, and when the tickling finally stopped, he curled in on himself and gasped for air in between yawns. 

"You're… so mean… Uncle Otis," he muttered as he rubbed his eyes and got himself comfortable. "Did I… Did I ever tell you that?"

"You just did a few seconds ago, Vladimir," Otis answered as he gave him back his pillow from earlier. He nodded in thanks as he placed it under his head, and he couldn't help but happily sigh as he felt himself being covered with a blanket. The last thing he registered before finally going to sleep was a hand brushing his hair out of his face and a caring voice softly saying,

"And if being evil is what it takes to ensure you get some much needed rest, then so be it."

Was that Uncle Otis? 

His dad?

It didn't matter. 

What mattered was that by now, they were one in the same, and that knowledge was what was letting him sleep in peace.

That, and getting the life tickled out of him.

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #2

Asmodeus: “I’m sad I wasn’t born in the era of-“ b*tch do it! If you like love letters, write them! If you like poodle skirts, wear them! Society is imploding as we watch on in abject horror! Do whatever you want!

MC: Time to buy a guillotine

Diavolo: Let’s not

•

Luke: The only acceptable icing is buttercream. Whipped icing is a cowards choice and fondant people are demons and gotta meet me in the street for their poor life choices that led them to accept play-doh as acceptable cake decoration

Barbatos: Turn on ya location and we can talk

Luke: Hope you understand sign language then cause all you’re gonna be seeing is hands

Solomon: Damn sh*ts gettin real in the cake decorating fandom

•

Asmodeus: Moan louder each time the cashier scans one of your items

Beelzebub: Please do not do this

•

Leviathan: A shout out to all the people who started using “same” as a joke once in awhile but now use it for the most random things like a car honking at another car

Satan: Yesterday a book fell off my desk and instead of picking it up I just looked at it and said “same”

•

Belphegor: I’m so tired of this life. I want to be a roomba. I want knives taped to me and I want to be set loose.

Satan: The energy of this post is dark and mysterious

•

Solomon: Make your own foot scrub

Diavolo:

1. Feet are pretty hard to make

2. Don’t call me a scrub ever again

Lucifer: please stop making me read this

•

Belphegor: In this world it’s milk or be milked

Lucifer: It’s really not

•

Solomon: If there’s a “heavens no” and a “hell yes” why isn’t there a “purgatory maybe”

Diavolo: PURGHAPS

•

Asmodeus: Bisexual: the ability to reach down someone’s pants and be satisfied with whatever you find

Diavolo: Whatever you find. That’s a pretty broad definition. I personally would not be satisfied if I found. Say. An alligator in my partners pants. Genitalia is cool. Carnivorous reptiles are not.

Satan: Is pansexuality not caring if you find an alligator

Barbatos: Yes

MC: If the alligator is limp. Is it reptile dysfunction?

Solomon: We need to get outside.

•

Beelzebub: What if birds aren’t singing and they’re screaming because they are afraid of heights

•

Leviathan: Do animals think in English or in the sounds they make

Lucifer: This is what yahoo paid $1.1 billion for

•

Leviathan: High school graduations are hilarious lmao “you’ve truly become a family after these four years” I guarantee you If some of these kids caught fire half their classmates would calmly drink a glass of water in front of the burning students

•

Belphegor: One time in school I didn’t read the assigned book and I was like f*ck it imma write this essay anyway and I had no idea what the book was even about or who the characters were so I just spewed out some shit about archetypes and the teacher came up to me after class and told me I was the only student who truly understood the book

•

Leviathan: Are you ever in school and you hear a muffled scream from a nearby class and you’re like the f*cks going on

MC: What the f*ck kind of school do y’all go to?

Satan: RAD

•

Belphegor: If you both agree to take a nap instead of going out, it’s a date

•

Asmodeus: Why are you single?

Leviathan: I literally don’t leave my house and I don’t talk either

•

Beelzebub: A mosquito tried to bite me and I slapped it and killed it and I started thinking like it was just trying to get food what if I went to the fridge and it slammed the door shut and snapped my neck how would I feel

•

Mammon: You are angry about something “clam down” I text you, you assume I have made a typo, but in fact I am holding a small soldier clam in my hands. He died so young, War is hell.

•

Leviathan: I was so sleep deprived the other day that I tried to zoom in on a paper

Leviathan: Wtf I just made that post

Leviathan: Oh wait that is my post

Leviathan: I haven’t slept in two days

•

MC: Where can I buy some thigh high crocs

Luke: In hell

•

Simeon: Today is Copernicus’s 540th birthday. You remember Copernicus as the man that said “hey, what if the earth went around the sun?” To which the Catholic Church replied “hey, what if we set you on fire?”

•

Asmodeus: I’m looking for a romantic way to say I hope you think about me when you masturbate sometimes

Simeon: In the deepest calmest hours of the night when you have not but your own company, I hope my image fills you with bliss

•

MC: “Were you born a boy or girl?” Bold of you to assume I was born at all

Mammon: I personally was created in a lab

Satan: Just straight of spawned

Diavolo: I was summoned

Luke: I was born at the age of seven, my mother being out of town at the time

Lucifer: Just popped into existence like a theoretical particle

Simeon: My existence is a figment of your imagination

Leviathan: Found in a cabbage field

Asmodeus: I lost my memories when I came to this dimension

Beelzebub: I’m just a rock that grew legs

Barbatos: I was retconned into existence to fix a plot hole four years ago

•

Mammon: What happened when the guy shoplifted a calendar

Leviathan: He got 12 months

Lucifer: Crime isn’t a joke

Last • Next

[sunjaesol]

“The simple act of being in love with you is enough for me.”

jiara | post-s2 | pining idiots | title: quote by Pacey from Dawson's Creek

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“Kie.”

“Hm?” The girl’s mop of curls obscured her face as she mumbled out some vowels, clearly still buzzed from the night before. An amused smile ticked up his lips and slapped her calf again. She sighed. “What?”

“Leggo,” he pushed, “we gotta get to Pope’s place.”

“Why?”

Even if everyone else would deny it, JJ swore Kie was as bad as he was: slow and fucking lethargic before eleven in the morning. Sure, she had better grades in school, but he wasn’t gonna give her more credit than that. Speaking of, “Helping him with that new scholarship, remember?”

The girl groaned and rolled over to face him, droopy eyes cracking open to scowl at him. She slept where he used to crash whenever his dad’s place became too much, but since the old man fucked off to Yucatán, he found peace in the quiet walls and cracked windows. Regardless, it was weird seeing her sprawled on this mattress, the boy almost able to envision himself beside her. A dangerous fantasy to linger on, so he pushed it aside and kept on trucking.

“C’mon, Kie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered and sat upright. “How did you even get in the Château?”

JJ grinned and snagged a key chain from his shorts. “Spare key. Duh.”

She rolled her eyes, uttering, “John B’s stupid,” and then pushed him out the guest room, telling him she’d get ready. His mouth opened to make the joke if he couldn’t stay and watch, but the door slammed in his face and that was that.

Having a crush on Kiara was the freakiest thing ever. First of all, JJ and emotions didn’t mesh well — it only led to trouble, a perfect example being his dad and him with the most fucked up dynamic to boot. He preferred to not even think about the man, though one glance in the mirror often betrayed his mind and brought a rush of memories to the forefront, whether it was a shiner against his eye, or the fact that he resembled his father when he was young.

So yeah, he didn’t like anything ‘love’ related. It was stupid. It was more reckless than buying a jacuzzi or trying to steal a golden cross from a boat with dozens of armed men. Friendship, however, was easy. He told the Pogues just that: they were ‘it’ for him, he’d go through fire for them, through hell and fucking back.

But he didn’t think he’d actually die for them, which almost happened when he tried saving Kie on the Coastal Venture — to which she ended up saving him. (A vision illuminated by a golden sun, hovering over him. He’d never forget it.)

While he inspected the contents of the fridge, embarrassingly filled with only beer, eggs, milk and junk food, the door creaked open and revealed a dressed and less-wrecked Kiara. His gaze flicked up and down her frame, quick, and then averted it back to the fridge.

“You got no food, man.”

She chuckled. “I know. It’s not exactly The Wreck type of food…”

“You haven’t gone back?”

“Nope,” she replied, curt, and moved past him to shove a container of sausages aside to grab a bottle of almond milk. Even if she wasn’t with her parents, she still somehow kept up her ‘no dairy’ principles.

Also, Kiara was hella beautiful. He hadn’t let it register when she walked in, but it was true. Her soft-looking, shiny skin, sporting the prettiest smile in all of the OBX, and she was just hot. Especially when she propped herself on the kitchen counter, to which he settled beside her to not look at her legs.

“How many scholarships are there?” she asked. “Like, I’m obviously proud of him, but…”

“He told us last night,” JJ laughed. “You were that fucking high?”

She giggled, “Yeah! You were there, I was just on my ass.” And then, quieter, “And… I don’t know, I guess I’ve been kind of distracted.”

He perked up, surprised. Though the Pogues were family, openly talking about emotions when it wasn’t prompted by anything, remained rare. They were better at talking shit and smoking and napping on boats. Whatever, he took the bait.

“Why?”

She shook her head. “It’s stupid, JJ.”

“Kie, you’re talking to me,” he nudged her shoulder, “throw me a bone here. Is it Pope? You got the hots for our favourite nerd again?”

Taking a sip from the bottle, her brow quirked up as though that was the stupidest thing he ever said, and retorted with, “Why’re you always doing that?”

His hands raised instantly, defensive. “Doing what?”

“You’re always digging, like, when I was with Pope you got all weird.”

“I don’t dig.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. Kie, what’s up?” He kept it moving before she found the core of his problem, and bounced back to the original issue. “Before I start saying shit to Pope.”

She scoffed. “You're full of shit.”

“Oh, Kie,” he drawled with a smirk. “You can do better than that.”

Silence fell. He waited, fiddling with his fingers, and quietly hoped Pope wouldn't be too annoyed when they arrived late — then again, they were begrudgingly coined 'tortoise and tortoise' by the group anyway.

She placed the bottle back in the fridge and sent him a rueful smile, one he often saw her showing Sarah before they went aside and had a private talk. Their eyes locked and she finally spoke.

“Sometimes, I… I miss my parents. And it's like, I don't get how they don't just accept that I'm a Pogue, that I'm friends with you guys, you know? But I still miss them.” She looked down at her feet, crossing at the ankles like a little girl waiting to be reprimanded by the teacher. “I miss my dad's hugs.”

Instantly, his arm swung around her for a gentle side hug, a grateful smile pulling on her lips as she leaned into him. Both knew they should savour a moment like this, as hugging with a twitchy JJ and often irritated Kie happened once every blue moon.

Ignoring the guilty look in her eye — yeah, he didn't understand missing a paternal embrace, rather used to a blow in the stomach or a crude remark, but that didn't mean he lacked empathy — he resisted the urge to encourage her to reconnect with them. Knowing her, she'd just close up and glare at him for the rest of the day.

So no, he wasn't going to ask her. And no, she shouldn't feel guilty. P4L 'til the end, baby.

“Thanks, JJ,” she whispered.

He snickered and pushed her off. “You can't tell the guys I'm becoming soft, dude. Theyʼll give me so much shit for it.”

“They know you're soft,” she teased, “don't even try.”

“I'm tough,” he tried.

“Like Play-Doh.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled and motioned at the kitchen door. “Let's go, Carrera. Before John B and Sarah come back and act all married.”

Now that was fucking annoying. After John B and Sarah faked their death, they got married by a bandana strip and hadn't let that notion go after returning. Sure, there was that small blip when they were fighting the crazy religious chick, but that was old news.

John B made him swear he wouldn't tell a soul, but the guy waxed poetry about Sarah whenever they were drunk and alone. It was hilariously sad. Another man lost to a girl.

(“She wants a beach wedding,” JB sighed a couple nights ago. “Nice, right?”

“I– yeah, I really don't care about this, man.”)

JJ knew that when he got a girlfriend (Kiara unintentionally but also very intentionally crossed his mind), he'd act normal. No mushy shit. No poetry. Definitely no creepy Romeo and Juliet references thrown in as if that shouldn't freak the Pogues out. Their behaviour better not be infectious.

Expectedly, Pope's scowl reached them all the way from the car, Kie and JJ sharing a sheepish look before stepping out.

“Gee, guys,” the boy deadpanned, “thanks for making haste. Really appreciate it.”

JJ's wide grin hoped to salvage it. Slapping his friend on the shoulder, he pushed past him and yelled, “Kie was dead, dude!”

Pope grimaced. “Don't joke about that.”

He watched as Kie stopped beside Pope with an apologetic expression, telling him she overslept and was sorry and that he knew how JJ was — “Always joking.”

His chapped lips pursed, a familiar punch hitting his chest with him then pretending it didn't hurt. She always did this. Even if she claimed she didn't, she always took Pope's side. Relationship or not. JJ knew she didn't owe him her 'side', but it'd be a nice change of pace either way.

Whatever. This wasn't the JJ Pining For Kiara Show. Pope needed their help.

A state-wide scholarship competition gave Pope another shot at winning a huge chunk of money (no gold type of rich though) and getting his ass out of OBX, hopefully launching himself into some fancy college when he revealed to be of Denmark Tanny's lineage. Those hibrow assholes loved a good sob story.

All Pope had to do was score hella high on some test — easy — and impress the panel — not so easy — and he'd be the luckiest Pogue of all.

But that did mean Kie and him had to sit on his creaky bed with a freaky amount of flashcards while a stressed out Pope paced around his room. He was pretty sure the floor was eroding.

Also, he had no fucking clue what any of the flashcards meant. Did Pope's smarts really attracted Kie that much? Was it the brain? Brain over brawl? But where was the fun in that? JJ loved Pope to death, but the guy had to be fully medicated or high before his brain shut off and he acted carefree.

“Pope, do you even know what this all means?” Kie bemoaned, flipping the cards around.

“You got a dictionary somewhere?” added JJ, squinting at the word aberration. It sounded like some weird disease. He showed him the word.

Pope dismissed it. “It means: different from the norm.”

“Dude, why not write that then?”

“Because they want aberration.”

He didn't get it. “No one uses it though.”

“JJ, that's just the way it is,” Pope pressed.

“Guys, stop,” Kiara interrupted. “But honestly Pope, it's so, like, elitist. None of these questions are important to the world, or the well-being of the people.”

“Sorry, Kiara, but unfortunately not everyone cares that much,” he sighed. JJ could tell they were starting to annoy their friend, their tortoise bullshit bleeding through.

Her nose scrunched up, peeved. “Right. Because there's a planet B just waiting to be used by us. Duh.”

“Ooh,” JJ drawled, nudging her arm. “Are there donkeys shitting money?”

Kie laughed. “Yes. All beaches, clean air, no Kooks, and money-shitting donkeys.”

“Nah, I want it to be hella Kooky,” he joked, gesturing wildly. “I want a yacht and tell people someone else does my laundry, or something.”

“You don't even do your laundry anyway,” she bounced back with a roll of the eye. “I know you force John B.”

“He's already playing House with Sarah, might as well wash my underwear, too.”

Oh, man. He could do this all day. Talking shit with Kiara went as smooth as fishing for him. Each time he thought he one-upped her, she threw more on top and kept it going 'til neither knew what the point even was anymore. Sarah dubbed it as 'banter' which he believed was a rich way of saying 'talking smack.'

“I don't believe you even know how to do it,” she challenged.

JJ huffed and crossed his arms. “I can do it.”

A smirk bloomed on her lips as she kept jabbing. “It's kinda cute, how you need John B to be your mom.”

“I don't.”

“You literally said it five seconds ago.”

“Guys,” Pope groaned, followed by an exhausted sigh eerily similar to Heyward. “Can we get back to the flashcards?”

Kie and JJ were too far into their discussion though, jabbing at each other at rapid speed. Then she threw her cards at him and all bets were off. He yelled she should make a goal with her hands, to which he folded up a flashcard and shot it straight between her fingers.

And that was when Pope kicked them out. JJ presumed it was a victory they lasted as long as they did. Kie kept apologising over her shoulder, prompting Pope to ask Cleo for help instead.

For a beat, they were silent stepping out of his place and back into the car. JJ felt a stab of guilt for fucking up Pope's study time, but it was hard to dial his brain to school when his friends surrounded him. Just when he wanted to ask if she felt bad too, she went off about the climate — as usual.

“It's so dumb how there were no questions about the environment or human rights or, or anything like that! It's all science and lit, like, there's more to life than fucking chemistry formulas!”

“I skipped those cards. Didn't get them.”

“It's so fucked,” she hummed. “And I'm obviously glad that you drove to the Château to wake me up and all—”

“Yeah?”

“—but I really wish those questions would matter. We almost died, JJ!”

“No, shit,” he grumbled, quickly starting to lose his patience with the ranting girl. She didn't even realise what the fuck she was saying anymore — what she did to his heart, skipping like some elemtary school girl on the playground, when she slipped some nice words in.

“Died!” she pressed. “Why even care about stuff like that?”

“Fucks sake, Kie—”

“And I didn't want to say it, but did you see how many flashcards there were? How many trees were cut for that? It's like, hello, Quizlet exists!”

“Kie, shut up!” he yelled.

Her mouth fell slack, gobsmacked, gawking at him like his interruption was a slap in the face.

Gesturing wildly with one hand, he exclaimed, “You know, you can just go on and on and I hear you talking and it's like, yeah, we get it, Mother Earth needs to be saved, we're fucked, you don't gotta repeat it twenty-four seven.”

“What the hell, JJ!”

“You have an opinion about everything! A man gets tired!”

“A man?” She scoffed. “You're not even eighteen.”

“Point is you don't gotta act all preachy all the time.” He turned the corner, hands tightening around the steering wheel.

Kie scowled. “Where is this coming from? I'm not preachy, I'm educating you.”

Now that was just fucking with his head. Incredulous, he exclaimed, “You think I don't listen? Kie, I'm the only one that does. JB is on Planet Sarah all the damn time and Pope only did shit 'cause—"

"That!” she yelled, throwing her hands up with frustration. “That's what I mean! You're doing it again! You dig!”

“What?!”

“Every time you mention Pope and I, you dig. You needle!” Twisting in her seat, his gaze flickered to catch her disgruntled expression. “Why do you do that? It's so… sus.”

JJ laughed. “Sus?”

“You don't ask John B about Sarah.”

“'Cause they're fucking obvious.”

“Still,” she pressed. “Did I do something to piss you off? Is that it? Is it me constantly asking you to recycle and yet — shocker! — you never do?!”

“Fucking God,” he grumbled under his breath.

With frazzled thoughts and shaking hands, adrenaline coursed through him as he swerved to the side of the road and stopped the car. If he fought with Kie any longer to this degree of fuckery, they were gonna crash.

She frowned. “What're you doing?”

“You, Carrera, are driving me insane,” he deadpanned, matter-of-fact. Then he slammed the door open and stepped out, desperate to catch his breath.

In the back of his mind, he had an inkling as to why he was so keyed up. Kiara would call him a Neandethal, but fuck it, here was the truth: Kiara was hot as hell when she argued with him.

Following his lead, she got out, her sneakers stomping against the asphalt. The sun steeped low on the horizon, the light hitting the hood and reflecting onto her face; her curls shifting from dark brown to gold. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was so fucked. He almost missed the start of her spiel, too enthralled.

“I'm driving you insane? I'm always getting you out of trouble, because you never think things through! You never see the bigger picture!”

He rolled his eyes. “Bigger picture? The only thing I see, Kie, is you going on about nature. That easy.” And then, before he could stop himself, he spewed out, “And you don't have to do that.”

“What?”

“Getting me out of trouble,” he said, pursing his lips. “That's not your responsibility.”

“Right. Duh. Because after everything we've been through, I can't care about you,” she exclaimed, face twisting up in pure fury. She got in his space, shoving his shoulder, but when he didn't budge, it only seemed to anger her more.

JJ didn't know what was going on anymore. Why was she so mad? Even if she didn't want to admit it, he was telling the truth. Of course all the Pogues had each other's back, but Kiara doted over him more than was necessary. The constant checking of injuries, limiting his day drinking, all that. Like he was some child!

He leaned in and mumbled, “I can take care of myself.”

Kie smirked. “Then do your own laundry.”

It happened naturally. One second he stared at her furious eyes and thought about how much he loved arguing with her despite the bullshit, the next his fingers curled into her hair and pulled her in a fierce kiss.

At first, her hands laid frozen on his shoulders, surprised, but the moment he realised his impulsive decision was a mistake, they slid around his neck and kept him close.

JJ sighed in relief and deepened the kiss he'd been craving ever since they were fourteen and Kie went from gangly to statuesque. Her lips were warm and soft and her hands were soft and she hadn't let go and holy shit — he was kissing Kiara Carrera.

The kiss lessened when her mouth quirked into a smile, their grins pressing flush together, and JJ shivered from delight. Oh, man. He was gone.

“You drive me damn crazy, Kie,” he murmured, voice dropped to an undeniably soft tone.

She bit back her silly grin and whispered, “Good.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried focusing up, but all he could do was stare at her face. A shy hand grabbed hers.

He had to get it out of the way now, or else he'd kick himself later. “I'm… really into you. I'm– oh, fuck, uh–”

“Maybe we can talk about it not on the side of the road?” she suggested, amused.

JJ grinned, elated (What was the word he saw on the flashcards? Exalted!), and kissed her again, because he could.

On the ride back to the Château, he confessed to seeing her in a different light for years, while she couldn't really pinpoint a time or moment, that it just happened. It didn't matter, though he was in utter disbelief that he and Kie were having this conversation. No jokes, no BS, all seriousness. Tomorrow, he'd wake up and it wouldn't be some sick dream. Kie liked him back.

JJ was sure he'd doubt himself or overthink it in the future, but today, he'd bask in the certainty and the major ego boost.

“Okay, but did you ever legit like Pope then?”

A sheepish smile crawled up her cheeks as her gaze averted to the window. “I thought I did. But we have, like, no chemistry, so…” She shook her head. “I was confused.”

“That's okay,” he uttered. He couldn't give her shit for it. Even if he did torture himself with their short-lived relationship, he understood.

How would he react though? John B and Sarah wouldn't care, or Cleo, but Pope? He didn't want one of his brothers hating him. Being iced out by the guy fucking sucked, as it meant he was truly hurt and therefore meant JJ truly fucked up. He couldn't handle disappointing him.

Kie read his mind. “He'll be fine with it.”

“I dunno, man…”

“He will,” she repeated. “We're Pogues. We've all narrowly survived death. And besides…” She turned back to him with a secretive grin. “I think he has a thing for Cleo.”

Whoa. He did not see that coming. His brows shot up to his hairline, mentally kicking himself for being so focused on Kie that he didn't even notice the shift of interest between Pope and Cleo. They made sense, too. Know-it-all's, but well-meaning, and only speaking when needed.

If the idea didn't relief him of worries, he'd be concerned as to why they were all seamlessly coupled up like in some 90s sitcom Big John had on VHS.

“What a player,” he joked.

“Tell me about it.”

They arrived at the house, the Twinkie and Sarah's bike sprawled on the overgrown front lawn. JJ frowned. He had hoped to have some alone time with Kie, not to jump her bones and fulfill a regular dream of his, but to talk. To figure it out. He wanted to do this right. Because after everything, they deserved to have good things, to start on a high note — he deserved it.

Kie noticed it, too. Puckering her lips on contemplation, her gaze trailed from him to the rest of the property, ending on the trusty ol' hammock. She jabbed her thumb at it.

“Let's sit there.”

Normally, they laid on opposite ends on the hammock, if they even shared one to begin with. But now, she pressed herself right beside him and he felt like heaven dropped down on them in the best way possible. He suddenly understood what John B was lamenting about — the company, intimacy, the ease. Nerves rippled through his body like a summer storm, but he figured that was what it cost to lose one's mind over a girl.

He didn't know what to say, so Kiara spoke instead.

“I don't want us, the way we are around each other, to change, you know?” she said. “Like, I don't want you to think you have to act like some mellow ass boyfriend all of a sudden.”

He smirked. “Who said anything about boyfriend?”

“Bye.”

“Hey, wait,” he grinned, latching onto her arm before she pushed herself out. “C'mon, Kie.”

Her nose scrunched up. “I don't do this usually, okay?”

“You think I do?” he asked. His hand softly slid down to wrap around hers, to which she hooked their fingers together. Okay. Wow. It felt so damn nice that it propelled him to say, “I wanna be your boyfriend, Kie.”

The girl smiled and then surprised him by leaning in herself, pressing a gentle kiss on his chapped lips. It was overwhelming having her instigate it, his gut twisting up in excitement like when he was about to backflip from a boat, or cliff dive, or something similar like that.

He let go of her hand to cup her cheeks, only to whisper, “That's a yes, yeah? Gotta get a yes.”

“Yes, JJ,” she uttered back. “Here's to not fucking this up.”

“Cheers, baby.”

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[maizumis]

MUSEUM DATE

ft. timeskip!tsukkishima kei

tw: suggestive tone in the last senteces, kids, domestic

pronouns: she/her

authors note: tsukkishima in here has a heart, tsukkishima can show emotions, he is not a robot he is a person!!! thanks for coming to my ted talk, also first time writing a one shot<3

Going to the museum with a five year old was not the best idea someone could have, the amount of times you have to remind them to “not to touch things” and how many times you have to say to them “don’t leave my side” is endless.

“Daddy! What’s that?” the nth question of the hour, tsukki couldn’t starts answering that his lovely daughter, Hanae, was already asking another question

“That’s a fossil, Hanae” if it wasn’t for your presence behind him, he was sure he would pass away from exhaustion, doesn’t she just get tired?

“And what’s a fossil? It looks like when I mix all my play-dohs and make a warm”

How do you explain a five year old what’s a fossil? They didn’t teach that in the first day of job, of course “a fossil is the home of a very, very old animal or plant” she looks at him with big eyes “so daddy and mommy are fossils? I think you two are very old”

For sure, kids are demons, there’s not a better word to describe them “now, me and dada aren’t that old sweety, fossils are even older that grandpa and grandma!” you pick her up with both your arms, her blonde hair now in your shoulder “now do you see this?” you said signaling the fossil she was eyeing a seconds ago, a thing she replies with a fast nod “a snail lived there a long, long time ago, he was friend with the dinosaurs!”

Wait, did she hear that right? “Mom are you talking about dinosaurs!? Like the book daddy bought me the last week, I remember he read me about the biggest one, what is he called dad?” she started moving so you would put her down

Well, maybe his child isn’t that bad, he couldn’t help but fall in love with you again, every day with the little actions you did for him and your daughter, your family, our family, he thinks “it is called argentinosaurus, and his body is currently in a New York museum”

“New York? I think that’s far from here dad” her smile now gone, she wishes she could go there

“Maybe when you’re older we could go to meet him, even go to his home country”

Tsukkishima was smiling, and internally thanking for this, what did he do to deserve you and your daughter by his side, did he do something good in his past life to be in this situation? If he had to run the entire world for you and your daughter, he for sure would be the new Forrest Gump.

“Oh dad look! There’s a dino in there! We should go, I love dinos, I’m gonna have a dino cake in my next birthday, maybe even get uncle Tadashi to dress as one”

“Uncle Tadashi and aunt Yachi too, they would love to dress up as dinosaurs for your birthday” you say with a little evilness in your laugh, you know her uncle and aunt would do it in the blink of an eye, Hanae has everyone blind with her charms.

“Oh yes aunt Yachi too! Wait!” she sees in another direction and exclaims “There’s an excavation game for kids can I go mom, please, pretty please?” why is she using the doggy eyes? “I promise we can see the dinosaurs after, dad”

“Yeah, you can go, Hanae, come here, grab mommy’s hand” you look at Tsukkishima and your daughter says “do you want to grab mommy’s hand too, dad?

“Yes, please” he answers and grabs your hand. Once your daughter is in the game he place both his hands on your waist, his eyes looking right at yours, you were sure he could even see your soul from there

“I want another baby”

“Baby fabric is closed, Kei”

He smirks and gives your lips a sweet and quick peck “for now”

[weirdthinkingdragon]

Welcome To The Family (2/???)

Should tw be a thing for a bit of mind-control? Oh well, I'll put it as a warning here just to be safe.  

Three weeks have passed. I've been informed by Eri that Shinsou has a mind control quirk. In all honesty? That doesn't change anything with the way I see him. He doesn't know I know his quirk. He doesn't need to since it wouldn't really change anything. He still seems rather untrusting of me though. I wish to change that, but how? More progress has been made with one of the adults, and he's around the least amount from working three jobs! Ugh, this is rather frustrating.

There is still plenty of time for that to change though. Remember Y/N, it's only been three weeks. At least the bond between Eri and I has grown substantially. We even already made our own little code thing by putting our right pointer finger on our nose, closing our left eye, and slightly poking out our tongues in a silly manner. It makes her giggle every time. We haven't shown that to the others yet. Not because there's anything wrong with it, it just never came up since I leave right after they come home. Shinsou almost saw it twice. No big deal if he does.

I even got to meet the two she thinks so highly of, and they're both adorable rays of sunshine themselves. They even brought dresses for an extra interesting tea party we had that day. The green one- the one whom of which I found out is named Deku, or Midoriya- is rather uncomfortable with wearing the dress, but seems to do it for Eri. The blond, Togata, has a short strapless pastel blue one that he doesn't seem to mind wearing in the slightest. He told me it's because he's rather used to suddenly being naked from his quirk. I can only wish to have that confidence. They told me more about their school, which honestly makes me wish to visit them and their friends someday. Sadly, that's not my place though.

Tonight is a night that I have to babysit them a bit longer, and have to put Eri to bed. Something about extra paperwork. I decided to be good for them and do some cleaning of their house. Nothing major, just the dishes that seem to of been sitting for a bit longer than they should have, and maybe even sweep the living room since there are a few visual piles of cat hair.

I start with sweeping the living room now while Eri watched more of her favorite show with her stuffed animals. It took a bit longer than it should have taken to find the broom in the utility closet. Oreo comes up to me and starts trying to swat at the broom, catching Eri's attention.

A smile starts to form on my face. Why not have a little fun with this? I start to drag the broom around, making him chase it. It doesn't take long for the other two on the cat tree to catch interest. I lean down and shake the broom side to side. Sundae jumps off from the highest point of the cat tree and lunges towards the brush of it, scaring Oreo in the process. Oreo jumps high in the air and angrily starts to bat at his brother.

Eri starts giggling and I get rather close to joining her. Mochi comes over from his box on the floor of the cat tree and starts to lazily bat at the broom as well. Oreo didn't seem to like that, so they jump onto Mochi. He wasn't being aggressive, just playful. I use the broom and gently sweep it on the two of them. They start trying to bite the bristles of it.

Their attention wasn't kept by the broom long though sadly. Sundae attacked Oreo, who was still focused on Mochi, then took off out of the room. Oreo then follows in hot pursuit. Mochi surprisingly trudges after the two of them. I laugh and shake my head while locking eyes with Eri. "They're sure lively today!" She giggles in reply.

There was a giant pile of fur after sweeping the living room. A ball of it big enough to barely fit in my palm. Nothing but a fluffy swirl of black, white, and orange. It's not in my palm though since there's most likely a bunch of other dirt too that wouldn't be pleasant to touch. I get it all in the dustpan and go to dump it in the garbage.

Eri is still rather interested in her show, so I decide to let her watch it a bit longer before cooking and having to put her to bed. Shinsou stayed at his school for a while longer today. My guess is he helps Aizawa or maybe even trains with him there since he doesn't seem like he'd have much time here.

I start doing the dishes, which doesn't take too long. A bit of green mold on one of the dishes makes me recoil in disgust a bit though. Okay, maybe they've been here a bit longer than I thought. Eri came into the kitchen half-way through me doing the dishes and sat on one of the chairs at the table to be by me. "Eri, you don't have to be in here you know. You can keep watching your show."

She shakes her head. "But I like being with you. I get so sad when you leave."

A quick twinge panged through my chest at that information. "Aw, I miss you when I leave too. Don't tell anyone, but you're my favorite to be around!" I inform and see her being really happy about that.

It's true though. She's been incredibly easy to take care of compared to so many others from before. Like the brother who kept ripping the heads off the dolls of his younger sister, or the one I kept having to keep a very sharp eye on to not find the hammer to test out how durable the windows of the house were. Or even the one who kept trying to put Play-Doh in their hair. Her past might have some to do with it. I focus my sudden new anger on thinking about the vile man to scrub the stained dishes more thoroughly.

It doesn't take too long to finish the dishes and start dinner. I decided to make dinner for the others too, even though it might be cold by the time they get to their home. Keeping it in the oven for a while might work. I get it ready and put it inside the oven. My stomach growls a bit at thinking about food. I don't feel right eating their food though, so I always bring snacks to eat while Eri eats what gets made. Luckily, she doesn't seem to be picky and sometimes asks for something that can be made. They told me anything for her is fine so that just makes it all the easier.

A familiar purple-haired teen enters the kitchen in the corner of my eye. "Ah, Shinsou! You're back! Your dads told me they wouldn't be back for a while. Hope you don't mind what I'm making for dinner. Eri said she wanted it."

He only replies with an uncaring shrug. He sets his backpack on the table and takes out homework to start on. Ah, homework. Don't miss it. Sadly though, even as an adult homework is still a thing, just in a different way. A part of me also likes to think he's only in here to watch me with Eri again. That's a very common thing I've noticed. He'll be around, but never want to join us. He'd probably hate me more if I told him, but I find him rather adorable in that aspect.

"Hey, Eri. Did you have fun again today?" I pretend not to see it, but that caring smile towards her didn't go past me, boy!

Eri goes over and hugs him. He hugs her back, and I'm pretty sure my heart melted a little again. I can get behind this being a common occurrence. I'm so happy to be the one gifted with taking care of these two children.

I must have lost track of time focusing on the two of them since the stove starts beeping, informing me the food is ready. I mumble out an "already?" and go over to the stove, taking it out. It gets placed on the stove to cool a bit as I grab hot pads, cups, silverware, and everything else needed for the table for the two of them.

Shinsou looks at me quizzically. Eri seems to notice his look too. "They never eat the food they make. Don't know why. It tastes so good!" His eyes narrow at me accusingly.

"I just don't feel comfortable eating your guys' food, you know? I usually just make Eri something and bring a few snacks with me to eat instead," I go off to think in space a little bit. "Okay, maybe that does seem rather suspicious now that I think about it."

"Suspicious?" Eri questions.

"Means like something is not right. Like if a person kept the following someone. A person watching the two would find that suspicious." She tilts her head, maybe more confused. "What does that do with food?" Oh, her dear innocence.

"Don't worry about it, Eri. It's nothing important right now. How about we just eat, and this time I guess I'll join you?" She looks down for a second at her empty plate, then back up at me. "Okay!"

I bring the food to the table and grab another plate, sitting down next to Eri despite Shinsou's glare at me again. Shinsou puts some on his plate. He only seemed keen on eating it after I took a few bites of it.

"Oh yeah, Shinsou?" He looks at me questioningly. "Could you wait here after dinner? I need to talk to you."

He replies with a nod and continues eating. Eri smiles at him. "See Toshi! It's so good!" He gives her a toothy smile. "Maybe even better than Hizashi's." Um... which one is that? I only finally memorized their last names!

Don't think he will tell me, so I decided to pretend to know which one it was. Either way is a 50-50 chance. Maybe I should ask Eri to remind me of which is which.

Eri nods. "Much better than the time daddy tried to make that gross stuff."

Shinsou gets an amused smirk. "You mean that homemade dish he burned beyond belief? heh, he wouldn't let it down for weeks."

I stay silent as I let the two of them talk. Hopefully, I'm not coming off as creepy just by still being here. I do wonder why they want me to stay with the two of them. Shinsou seems much more than capable of taking care of Eri himself. Even if he doesn't know how to cook, it could be learned.

"Y/N?" Eri's voice saying my name snaps me out of the thought of Shinsou cooking and struggling by burning it. "Yes, Eri?" I ask. "Could you read me the princess and the frog tonight?"

"Of course!" I smile at her. "You must be really excited, huh? I've never read to you yet, have I?"

She shakes her head. "Alright, grab the book after dinner and I'll be up there soon after." Her hands shake in excitement. She starts eating her food faster.

"Slow down! It's not going anywhere." I tease.

She only replies by slowing down slightly.

-------------------------------------------------------

I tuck her in and started to read the story to her while laying on the bed above the covers so she could look at the pictures in the book too.

We start to read the book. Well, mostly me reading it out loud to her. I don't even get halfway through the book to notice her falling asleep leaning against my shoulder.

She's rather stubborn though and refused to fall asleep until the book was finished. Laying her down fully, she falls asleep almost instantly.

Turning off the light, I then proceed back to the kitchen. There Shinsou sat, still doing his homework.

It's quiet between us with me sitting in the same chair as earlier. The only sound being the scratching of the pencil he's using on paper. Now is the best time to bond with him, but how? Could talking about his quirk work? Maybe him knowing I'm not afraid would help?

He looks up from the paper, straight into my eyes. "Do you truly like Eri?"

What's with that sudden question? Hasn't it been shown well with my interactions with her? "Of cour-" Something akin to icy claws felt like were wrapped around my head, leaving a numbing and foggy feeling over my body. My body is no longer in control of itself. The only explanation is it's his quirk. So this is his quirk in play. Does he want truthful answers? Then so be it. I've got nothing to hide.

"Be honest," His voice takes a sharp tone. "Do you like Eri?"

"Yes." my voice is monotone, and it honestly sounds rather strange.

He becomes ever-so-slightly less tense. "What is your goal?"

"To take care of you and Eri."

"In what way?" His eyes narrow. "Are you secretly hired to take Eri?"

"No. I am doing my job, and more." His brows furrowed into a look of confusion instead of accusing. "More?"

"My goal is to befriend you and take care of Eri." The foggy feeling goes away from my mind, most likely his quirk losing control as his eyes widen. It's hard to tell whether he willingly stopped, or it was caused by shock. "I'm also aware of your quirk. You should know that makes you no different to me."

He abruptly stands up from his chair like he's never been told such a thing before and can't believe it. I can only imagine how many children probably tell him it's a villain's quirk or something. Poor kid. Er, well... Teenager. In all honesty, that makes it worse. "How long have you known?"

"A week maybe? I'm not afraid of you or your quirk. I know you're trying hard to be a hero, and you'd never do anything that would harm me unless needed. You've most likely been told before, but you're not a villain, nor will you ever be," I smirk at him. "If you are, you're doing a terrible job at being one."

He gives a small and rather happy smile in return. There we go! We're getting somewhere! "Your guardians are usually around, but if you ever need anything and they can't help, you can always come ask or tell me, Shinsou."

He remains quiet for a moment. "Hitoshi."

"Pardon?"

"My name. Call me Hitoshi," He rubs the back of his neck with his left hand. "If you're serious about being with us, then I suppose it wouldn't hurt to call me by my first name," he lets out a sigh. "I also suppose it would also be problematic to find another sitter since Eri is rather attached to you already."

Well, he changed his mind rather suddenly. I'm not complaining though! I nod. "Hopefully I can be close with you as well someday. I know we're still rather rocky, but thanks for giving me the chance to grow better with you."

He replies with a nod in return. The pencil still in his hand writes down a few more things, then he puts it back into his backpack and looks at the time on the stove. "We might as well wait in the living room for their return."

I nod, and we both go into the living room. Shin- Hitoshi is much more relaxed around me now. Man, wish he could have used his quirk for confirmation earlier. Then again, this is the first time Eri hasn't been around, and she probably wouldn't be too happy to see him use his quirk on me.

The T.V. is mostly background noise as the two of us sit in silence. "So, Shin- Hitoshi. Are you more of a comedy person or a horror person?"

He shrugs. "Comedy can help me get into the minds of others by saying things that might make them reply, but horror is more interesting."

"Ooh! that's actually really smart to do! I didn't think of that until you mentioned it!" He smiles and rubs the back of his neck again.

A hand is suddenly placed on my shoulder, making me jump out of my skin. I sharply tilt my head up to lock eyes with Yamada. Seriously! How is their door so silent when it opens!? And more importantly, how can such a loud man be silent enough to sneak up on someone!?

"Glad to see the two of ya gettin' along!" He says with Aizawa slouched beside him.

I smirk at him. "It's been a bit of a challenge, but nothing I'm not willing to try going up against! Also, you scared the daylights outta me! How could you sneak up so well?"

He laughs. "All in a hero's work, even if I'm supposed to be a more noisy one!"

"I bet! Oh! Also, I did the dishes for you and made dinner, which is in the oven. I did it to keep it at least a little warm for when you guys got back to your home. Hopefully, you guys don't mind." They seemed rather surprised by that. Checking the time, it's almost midnight. There isn't school for them tomorrow.  Eri told me they always take non-school days as family days. Well, unless either of them are called in for a patrol.  

I get up and put my shoes on and look at Hitoshi before I go. "It was great getting closer with you today! See you soon, Hitoshi!" The adults' eyes widen greatly, and Yamada's mouth hangs so far open he might as well be a pelican. It makes Hitoshi laugh. Huh, he must not let many call him by his first name or something.

I leave, even more excited for what the future holds with this family than before.

-----------------------------------------------------

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 28: Storm Surge

Chapter 27

Read on AO3

Storm surge: rise in seawater level during a storm

——

Four days. That was how long Claire was stuck at the hospital, how many nights she slept on that shitty cot, how many days she’d eaten nothing but hospital food, how many days since she’d seen her daughter.

How many days that Jamie had spent with her daughter.

The roads were finally clear of debris at around noon, but her shift hadn’t ended until 8:30. She was racing home, desperate to get there before Faith fell asleep. She was certain she’d burst into tears if she couldn’t hug her after the longest separation of their lives. The last text she’d received from Jamie had assured her that they were both wide awake and watching The Little Mermaid, but who was to say that she wouldn’t crash during her drive home?

Unfortunately, the power was still not back at the apartment complex, and Claire’s drive home confirmed that it was not just them. People at the hospital were predicting it would be out at least a week. Claire prayed it would be sooner considering how upset Jamie said Faith had gotten when the lights would not work.

She pulled into the driveway, and did not even bother grabbing her duffle bag from the back seat. She snagged her purse and bolted up the front steps. The door swung open, and there she was, her little girl, bouncing with her arms stretched upward.

“Oh, hello!” Claire exclaimed, letting her purse fall to the floor and scooping Faith up. “Oh, my sweet girl, I missed you so much…”

Faith was humming loudly, squeezing her mother around the neck, and kicking her dangling legs uncontrollably. She began rubbing her cheek against Claire’s and running her fingers through her hair.

“Oh, yes, hello, love…” Claire kissed both of her cheeks over and over, then her head, then her cheeks again. Faith intercepted more kisses by slapping her palms against Claire’s cheeks, causing Claire to sputter and flinch, but she didn’t have the heart to scold her for it. Faith held her mother’s head in place, squishing their faces together.

“Yes, hi, baby, I missed you, too…” Claire nuzzled her nose against Faith’s, even as her little hands squeezed the life out of her cheeks. From the corner of her eye, Claire could see Jamie standing back, watching them. Claire shifted Faith in her arms, settling her on one hip so she could see again. Faith was not finished, however; she continued to rub Claire’s face and fiddle with her hair and rub their cheeks together.

“Hi,” Claire said, her voice thick with emotion, her face flushed.

“Hi,” Jamie answered, stepping closer.

Claire flicked her eyes down to the fort of sheets in the middle of the living room, and she bit her lip.

“It looked bigger in the pictures,” she said, laughing. “You really fit in there?”

“Aye,” Jamie said in mock offense. “It would be a failed endeavor entirely if I didna.”

Claire broke into an enormous grin, and she slid Faith down her body to set her on her feet. Before she could step into Jamie’s arms, Faith wrapped herself bodily around Claire’s legs, rubbing her face on her capris. Claire snorted with laughter as Jamie closed the distance between them, and she was still laughing when he captured her lips with his.

Behind Claire’s eyes danced every photo that Jamie had sent her over the last four days, every play-doh sculpture, every coloring book page, every lego structure, every selfie of the two of them in the fort, and she was overcome. She grasped his face in her hands, squeezing, deepening the kiss.

Despite how busy she’d been at the hospital, she’d had lots of time to think, many hours on that damned cot where sleep eluded her. And she knew, she knew to the very marrow of her bones the truth of what was ready to burst out of her like a storm surge.

Just when she was becoming dizzy for lack of air, she broke the kiss, and Jamie gaped at her. “What was that f— ”

“I love you.”

Jamie’s voice broke off immediately, his mouth flapping soundlessly. As Claire cradled his face close to hers, her stomach flipped, and her heart leapt into her throat. She’d meant it; meant it more than anything in her life. It was something she supposed she knew for a while, perhaps even before that first kiss, but it wasn’t something she’d allowed herself to feel until very recently. And it wasn’t something she was ready to say until it was ready to burst out of her. She was smacked over the head with it on that first night in her hospital cot, and the days and days before she could get back to him and tell him had been agony.

“What…” Jamie’s voice was light and airy, “did ye say..?”

Claire’s breath stuttered out of her with a tremble, and she wet her lips. “I love you, Jamie,” she repeated, resolutely, tightening her grip on his face.

His shuddering exhale danced across her skin, and she watched as his eyes welled up. They danced all over her face, as if to memorize her every feature the moment she’d said it.

“Christ…” His voice broke, and he laughed in spite of himself, a single tear spilling over. “I love you, Claire. God, how I love ye.”

As if he couldn’t control himself, he kissed her feverishly, threading his fingers through her hair. Claire nearly tipped backward at the force of his affection, being that her legs were rooted in place by a thirty-eight pound weight. Jamie quickly adjusted to catch her, covering the entire span of her back with his two hands. Their lips broke apart to laugh, and Jamie pulled her back upright into a tight embrace. They swayed for a good while to the tuneless melody of Faith’s joyful humming.

God, how I love you.

Claire inhaled deeply, breathing him in. He smelled of his aftershave, crisp and clean, and somehow also like spaghetti-os, like Angus’s dental treats, and like Faith’s shampoo that somehow always clung to her hair no matter how long it was between showers.

He smelled like home.

Reluctantly, Claire peeled herself away from him, then looked down at Faith. She debated using her harsher tone to make her let go, but then decided she didn’t have it in her at the moment. Instead, she melted to the floor, forcing Faith to topple on top of her. Faith got an idea then; Claire could see it in her eyes. Then she was being pulled into the fort, and there was absolutely nothing Claire could do about it.

Before Claire could even blink, she was nestled in a veritable bird’s nest of blankets and pillows, Faith in her lap, and Prince Eric was finding Ariel on the beach. Jamie crawled in after them, grinning impishly.

“I hope you realize what you’ve done,” Claire said. “I’ll never be able to take this down now. It’s going to become a permanent fixture. Are these pillows from my bed?”

She arched an eyebrow at him, attempting intimidation, but given the spread of Jamie’s grin, she supposed it was not at all working. He settled in beside her on the air mattress, brushing hair off her neck and kissing her there and then nuzzling the spot with his nose. Like a cat whose favorite scratching spot had been found, Claire’s body went limp and liquid against him until she was in his lap, pulling Faith with her. Eventually, they were in an indecipherable pile of limbs, all three of them. During “Kiss the Girl,” Jamie kept looking down at Claire and waggling his eyebrows absurdly until Claire rolled her eyes and obliged him for a quick peck. She lost count of how many times it happened by the end of the song.

Faith didn’t fall asleep during the movie, but neither did she want to move when it finished. Jamie retreated from the fort and returned with a plastic cup that came from the kitchen, a bathroom Dixie cup, and Faith’s toothbrush. To Claire’s bewildered look, Jamie replied:

“I wasna gonna let her get away wi’ no’ brushing until the power came back. So I brought it to her. It’s been working.”

Claire’s face softened as she remembered the meltdown over the lights that Jamie had mentioned on the first night. That he had found a workaround solution that did not distress Faith was astounding and heartwarming. She watched in awe as Faith sat in her nest of blankets with her mouth open, putting up no fight as Jamie brushed her teeth. He had her spit into the empty plastic cup, and then rinse and spit with the water from the Dixie cup.

“Good girl,” Jamie praised, poking her nose with her toothbrush. He departed then, and Claire could hear him washing the cup in the kitchen sink.

“Good job, baby,” Claire repeated, rubbing her shoulder and kissing her head. “You had so much fun with Jamie, didn’t you?” Faith hummed contently, swirling her fingers in Angus’s fur. “Such a good girl.”

Jamie returned shortly after, and Claire could not help but laugh at the sight of that Viking of a man crawling into the small opening. “So what now?” The words bubbled through her laughter. “We lay here all night?”

He blushed a little. “Well, that’s what I’ve been doing.”

Claire gawked. “Are you serious? I was joking.”

His blush deepened. “She got upset when I tried to leave. And she’d already melted down twice that day. Figured it wasna fair to make her go again just fer me.”

Claire could literally feel herself melting, inside and out. If she hadn’t already found the nerve to say it, she would have been overcome and blurted it out right then. Perhaps Jamie could see it, because he inched closer.

“Come here,” Claire crooned, holding onto Faith with one arm and pulling Jamie closer with the other, kissing him soundly. She pulled away when she felt something plastic poking at her nose, and she went cross-eyed trying to see what it was.

The medicine dropper.

“Right,” Claire said sheepishly, and Jamie smirked at her. Claire lifted Faith off her lap as Jamie simultaneously swiped the pillows that came from Claire’s bed off the air mattress. Faith settled in on her pillow, nestled under her blanket, and Claire gave her the Risperdal.

“Good girl,” she said, and she patted the space next to Faith, which Angus hopped into obediently. When she shifted in her seat on the air mattress, she saw Jamie lying on his back with his hands behind his head, a pillow on the floor for each of them. He raised his eyebrows invitingly and nodded toward the unoccupied pillow, and Claire groaned audibly.

“I am not sleeping here all night,” she grumbled, even as she nuzzled into him, mostly on him rather than the pillow. “Not after four nights on a cot.”

“Aye, alright,” he said, kissing her forehead. “We can move in about an hour.”

Claire sighed resignedly. “You’re staying the night?”

“I don’t have to — ”

“I want you to,” she interrupted firmly, resting her chin on his chest to look him in the eye. “It wasn’t really a question.”

“Aye.” Jamie chuckled nervously. “Alright.”

Smiling in victory she lay her head on his chest again. They lay tangled together, Jamie rubbing up and down her back, Claire tracing circles on his chest. Once Faith’s breathing grew heavy, they tentatively sat up. One by one, they inched out of the small opening to the fort, each of them holding a pillow, both of them having to bite their lips to keep from giggling like school children. Once they got to their feet, they crept quickly and silently to Claire’s bedroom, and the second the door was shut, they let loose the bubbling laughter. Jamie tossed the pillows onto the bed and turned back to her.

Even as they were both still laughing, Claire locked the door behind her and pressed her mouth to Jamie’s in one swift motion. She felt the growl in his chest before she heard it, and both sensations sent heat rushing to her core. They stumbled back until they landed in a heap on the bed, laughing again. Claire straddled him immediately, deepening the kiss and rolling her hips when Jamie greedily seized handfuls of her arse.

She sighed a delicious moan into his mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pulling it off between kisses. In return, he pulled off her shirt and undid her bra with an expert ease of someone who’d been having sex much longer than he’d been.

“Oh, I missed you…” Claire crooned, her entire body tingling with delighted electricity at the feeling of skin on skin, her breasts pressed flat against his chest. To further relish in this feeling, she scooted lower to suckle at his neck, delighting in his groans and how his roaming hands on her back would stutter and dig their nails into her when she nibbled. She made her way down to his nipples, having recently learned that he was nearly as sensitive there as a woman. She teased him for probably longer than he could bear, considering he yanked her face back up to his for a searing kiss. He abruptly sat up, pushing her up with him, so she was straddling his lap. He bore his eyes into hers while he undid her button and fly.

“Take them off.”

She shivered from head to toe at his command, and she immediately obeyed, getting up on her knees to slide her capris and underwear down, and he did not help her get them over her knees and heels. She stayed up on her knees and he growled hungrily, reaching up to kiss her, trailing his hand up her inner thigh, and resting to cup her, cover her entirely. She gasped raggedly, tugging on his hair roughly. His fingers slipped in easily, and she groaned loudly, unable to stop from thrusting her hips, riding his hand.

“It is such an honor…to worship this body…” he breathed into her neck, stroking her walls deftly. “To love this body.”

Love.

Claire had had sex. She’d had sex before Frank, had sex with Frank. She’d had sex with Jamie, of course.

But she’d never, ever made love.

That was what this was, what it had to be. Sex, fucking, was not enough to describe it. She’d never been caressed inside the way Jamie did, she’d never known such affection as his other hand roaming up and down her torso, tenderly squeezing each breast in their turn. Every touch said he loved her.

And she believed him.

It would have been too easy to let his fingers finish her, and she would have been all the more ready for him, but she couldn’t stand another moment without him inside her. Caught off guard, Jamie did not expect the rough shove she gave him, pushing him onto his back, forcing his fingers out of her. She undid his fly and slid off the remainder of his clothing until he was fully bared to her.

She greedily roamed her eyes all over his perfect form, her lips flapping uselessly. What could she say that could even come close to the poetics that Jamie had uttered to her? “I’m honored to worship your body, too,” would be ridiculously stupid, not to mention inadequate.

So, she settled on the only thing she could think to say.

“I love you.”

She whispered it against his lips as she took him in, inch by inch, his grip on her arse tightening and tightening with every inch. He kissed her then, groaning. She rode him slowly, savoring every second; every second of their love-making.

“With all my heart, I love you.”

Tears sprang to his eyes at that, and she kissed them away. She didn’t realize that she, too, was crying, until he flipped her over, staying inside, and kissed away moisture on her own cheeks.

“I love you, Claire,” he groaned into her ear, moving slowly inside her. “My heart is yours. I love you.”

He loved her tenderly, softly, wildly, hard, so achingly hard, loudly. They fell together in shared ecstasy, their hearts beating as one. 

If his heart was hers, then hers was his.

Even while Claire was still convinced she was in love with Frank, she’d never known what it was like to lose her heart. Not until Faith. The second her baby was put in her arms, her heart was no longer hers. She thought it was impossible to give away something that had already been given.

But, without her knowing, there’d been a piece tucked away all along, a piece that was waiting for Jamie.

I’ve waited all my life to love you.

And as the blackness of a deep, dreamless sleep overcame her, the scent of their combined sweat dancing in her nose, his arms like a vice around her, she knew it to be true.

——

From a dead sleep, Claire was woken by a sudden chill. For a terrifying moment, she thought she might be coming down with something. She listened to her body for aches and pains but felt nothing. And then she realized.

Jamie’s warmth had left her.

She sat up, too quickly considering how her head spun, and could see in the light of the moon that Jamie was getting dressed.

“Where are you going?”

Jamie turned around, putting his arms through the sleeves of his t-shirt. “Ye didna hear?”

A loud bang sounded, making Claire jump ten feet in the air and instinctually cover herself with the sheets. The bang was followed by a loud whine, and the pieces clicked in her head.

Jamie tossed Claire a t-shirt, one of his given the scent of it, and a fresh pair of underwear. Claire was too tired to remark on his going through her underwear, but she tucked that away for later. Now in flannel pants and a fresh shirt, Jamie made his way to the door, turning to make sure that Claire was dressed before unlocking and opening it. Faith did not even address Jamie, and before he could say anything, she was already shuffling past him and toward the bed. Claire glanced at her phone for the time, two in the morning.

She sighed in defeat, helping Faith as she climbed clumsily into the bed. Angus trotted behind her and hopped up onto the bed, settling at Claire’s feet. As Claire was getting Faith settled, she felt the bed shift, and looked up to see Jamie getting in on the other side of Faith. It did not take long at all for Claire to fall dead asleep again, Jamie’s arm draped over Faith’s body and around Claire’s waist. The last thing she heard was a muffled kiss to a curly head, and not her own.

“I love ye, sweet Faith.”

[dos-perros-locos]

Training updates Ft. Baby Kale

Most important news: unless something changes in the next couple of months, we won't be trialing at Nationals next year. One of the requirements, I found out, was that the dog needed a leg in the level they were hoping to trial at and

We're not ready to trial just quite yet

All the trials are at least 8 hours away

Hopefully a club closer to home decides to put on a trial in order to get their members able to qualify. That will be our best bet but it's not the end of the world. We'll be going to watch and mingle regardless.

Now onto training:

(B)Kale's been struggling with just simple down stays. He's naturally a busy dog so staying is inherently against his nature but I've had to take to using an ecollar to reinforce the stay as he'll just ?get up? and leave??? Like he's almost 2, down stays are not a foreign concept. Maybe ya'll remember but K.O. failed the down stay at his brevet so I'd like to avoid that again.

(2)I've already started introducing scent articles. Initially I thought that teaching a play based scent article would not result in a methodical search but of course I was proven wrong. He's done well with a hidden ball and has 4 had reps with a scented carpet scrap. The biggest factor was the change between the rubber/spit/Kale/Momther scent to just Momther. I knew it would be a challenge. The session introducing the carpet started off with a single hidden ball and then the 4 carpet hides

Was hidden too hard. I was in view but the article was hidden behind an uprooted fire hydrant. Casted and searched well but I eventually called him back to re-hide

Walked out and dropped it where he could see it. Was confused for a second when he got to source but without prompting picked it up and started heading back. Marked + R halfway.

Still in view but was dropped in leaves and pine needles. Again easily found and retrieved. M+R 3/4 way

I was in view but dropped it behind a large branch directly ahead. Casted, ran it over, backtracked, located and retrieved. M+R halfway

These were all on pavement so once source was identified, the object was easily visible. I'm contemplating adding a non verbal cue (likely turning and making eye contact with the dog at the drop point) but I have yet to decide.

(1) Position changes are coming along nicely as well. I've added a target consistently and have noticed a marked increase in correct reps (including transitions) vs incorrect. He is now also being asked to hold the position for up to 10 sec and has been successful there as well which has been a combination of increase in confidence due to increase in being correct and just pure patience.

Things that need some work:

Down stays

Power and confidence into the send away

Fronts

Long jump

Deeper understanding (for the dog) of the DOH

Oh! Also, I've been meaning to introduce you to my magic magical training tool. It's multifunctional, easy to transport and cheap.

It's a fisbee. This one has a carabiner through it which allows me to use it for send-outs but it can also be used as a place for jumps or a station for position changes. You can also just throw it which is cool.

[emokpopgal]

Entanglement - PART 1

Yandere! Ghost! Kyungsoo (D.O.) x Fem! Reader

Warning/s: Mention of suicide, violence, and guilt-tripping. Read at your own risk...

Part 1

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Empty. 

It's all what Kyungsoo can describe the world before him.  He weakly stands on his bathroom floors, eyes staring at his reflection in the mirror. His swollen eyes have developed bags underneath his eyelids accompanied by his build that obviously decreased in weight. He hadn't eaten properly ever since she left.  He hadn't felt alive too

. What he only feels are the turmoil of sadness, guilt, and betrayal inside him. These feelings are what weighs heavily on his chest and he had cried so much that no more tears made its way out of his eyes; it's like he has evolved to be numbed to the effects. He feels like an empty husk of his former self.  It's all my fault. He says to himself.  He felt like he was the one to blame in putting such a relationship to waste. The 10 years of memories and hardships, gone. Their marriage, forgotten. If only he had changed sooner. But he couldn't figure out why. He did give her everything— a roof over her head, his undying love, and a lavish lifestyle. What more could she want? All he wanted was for her to stay, but how could she betray him like this? She promised him that she will stay by his side for all eternity and this was evidenced by her accepting the ring at the time of his proposal. He also promised to change his ways, and he did. But she still left.  It has been a week since she abandoned him and the memory continues to play on his head like a broken record.  "I want to break up." "What...?" "I said I want to break up, Kyungsoo. I can't handle this anymore!" "Jagi," Kyungsoo he says to her. He attempts to grab her hands in which she immediately swats away.  "Is there something I did again? surely we can sort this out—" " I don't think I would want to sort this out again, Soo." "And why is that?" He questions. "I want to END this..." Y/N answers. He couldn't believe what she was saying. Is she really trying to do this now?  He thought.  "End... " He repeats, inquisitively. "A-are you serious?" Y/N, in response, just lowers her head and diverts her gaze on the floor. She's not the type to joke around on these type of situations. Her silence is enough to send him the sign that she is indeed serious on what she's saying. Anger is slowly building up to him. He can't fathom her intentions on abandoning a long term relationship and the marriage that is drawing near. "END?!" He shouts. "What is this bullshit, Y/N?! You want to END all we've been through?" He then plunges his fist into the wall, leaving light cracks on its surface. He's slowly loosing himself and is beginning to give in to the intensity of his emotions. Y/N flinches from the noise. His manner of speaking is starting to frighten her, but she promised herself that she won't back down. Even in the midst of fear, she forced open her mouth. "I-I don't care anymore, Soo! I don't want the marriage, and I...I—!!!" "YOU what Y/N?!" He threatens. "You don't wanna be with me anymore?" "Yes, Soo. And this is not—" "Oh please!" He interjects, kicking the furniture next to him. "This again?! Oh come on Y/N, you're really breaking it off when IT'S 6 MONTHS BEFORE OUR WEDDING?!" He's doing it again. Instead of reasoning out, he reverts to guilt-tripping. It's all because he's blinded by the emerging feelings inside of him and the rising fear of her leaving. He can't stop, he doesn't know how to and this is the only thing he knows on how to respond to these kind of situations. Deep inside, he wants her to take back all what she's saying. Anger is his weapon, but this time it wont affect her as much. "FUCKING YES, I AM!!!" She finally snaps, angered by his reaction and childish choice of actions.Now, she's using the same tricks as his. "Why? 'Cause you don't love me anymore? You don't LOVE me, who gave you everything for the past 10 fuckin' years?!" Yes, keep going. Tell her everything you did and throw it in her face, she is nothing without you. Let's see if she still has the guts to leave... "You really want me to answer that, Soo?" Y/N challenges him. "FINE!" Kyungsoo's eyes widens, fearing the possibilities of what she might say. "Soo, I can't love you anymore, you kept on HITTING me. And for the past 10 god-forsaken years, you still haven't learned to control your goddamn jealousy! I've endured all of this, because I LOVED you! But now I just can't take this anymore!" It's true. All of this is true. But he just simply cannot control himself, and again, he doesn't know how. And he just loves her too much to the point that he must do things in order to make her stay, even if it means that she will answer to his hands.  But he changed didn't he? He even got some help like she always asked him to do. Was that not enough for her? "B-But I've changed Y/N!" He says, with tears starting to form around his eyes. "Tell me... When's the last time? It was like, months ago remember?" She remained quiet again, this time staring at him with mixture of sadness and contempt in her expression. "...Remember?" "Soo..." She says. "After the last time, my love for you started to fade away..." It puzzles him even more. What does she mean it started to fade away? Was he living with the mirage of her loving him all this time? "What?" He says. This is now his breaking point."What do you mean...?"  "I don't love you as much anymore." She bluntly replies. "I thought I would love you again after you proposed. But I did not, especially the time you did it again..."  Reminiscing those painful memories brought tears to Y/N as well. She can remember the pain of his broken promise that he will change for the better. The pain of his fists landing to her body and his insults towards her left a mark that she definitely won't forget.  Then it hit him. The words that came from Y/N became a knife that pierced through his chest that sliced and cut his heart into a million pieces. He felt his body go numb as his tears made its way out if his eyes, trailing down his face. This can't be true — she couldn't possibly mean what she says, right? They have fought like this before and still managed to be together. Surely this will all pass and she will come back again. Or so he thought. "Y/N, y-you can't possibly m-mean that, r-right?" Kyungsoo pleads in between his sobs. "Please t-tell me you don't mean that!" "I meant what I said." Y/N hisses out. She rolls of the sleeves of her blouse, revealing her arms filled scars and cuts that came from Kyungsoo's beating.  "All of this was from you, Soo! And I think this is  alone is enough for me to end this." She covers her arms again and fixes the sleeves of her blouse. She takes an item from her purse, and brings it in front of Kyungsoo's face. The item was their engagement ring. It's silver luster and reflectious diamond stone mimic the light of the sunset rays coming from the window. "We're through." She says, then she proceeds to throw the ring across the room.  The ring bounces off of the opposite wall and falls in the red, mahogany floors of Kyungsoo's house. It's impact on the floor emits a sharp tinging sound. He didn't attempt to look at where the ring has landed off to for he was still frozen of the events happening before him. She then takes one last glance at Kyungsoo, with the sharpest gaze she could muster. "This talk is done, goodbye Doh Kyungsoo. Don't contact me ever again." Y/N turns around and walks towards the door, but before she can reach the handle, Kyungsoo reaches to her, wrapping his arms on her waist with his face resting on her shoulder. She could feel his tears dampening her shirt. Why is she feeling bad? "Please," He says, sobbing. "P-please don't leave me! I will make things right, I'm sorry! I know I can't control myself sometimes but I swear I'll work on myself! Just don't—" Y/N sees the hysteric state the he's in. She is starting to feel guilty about what she is currently doing, but it has been decided that she would leave their toxic relationship. What is the essence of lavish living if she would just constantly live under his fists everyday? It's time that she should think about her own wellbeing rather than their both. She tries pry off his hold to her, but he won't budge. He is stronger than he looks.  "Kyungsoo please..." She pleads as she squirms in his arms. "It's going to be the same again! Just let me go." He then lets go of her. It became clear to him that she no longer wants to do anything with him. He watches her make her way outside his house as she slams the door in front of him. Y/N is his whole world, and always will be. She was his savior from his own darkness, but the down side to that is, in certain times she takes all of it. The outcome of this is their frequent fights, leaves Y/N as always the loser, evidenced by the painful marks left on her skin. He did gave her everything, as he said. But...She still chose to leave Going back to reality, he stares at the object sitting at his sink. He's been contemplating of doing it, since he lost everything the day he lost her. However, he sets this plan aside for the moment, because he is yet to bring her back to him. He'll even beg in his knees if he has to. -----  SM Telecoms is the company that Y/N works for. On the foot of the building is a café, where he and Y/N would usually meet. This is where he often picks her up— he even knows her favorites from their menu.   The café's exterior was made up of windows huge enough to see it inside, which is usually filled with customers from or outside the company. This is Y/N's hang out place after her work hours. Kyungsoo's car was parked parallel to the café, granting him a clear view of the place, even when he's on the other side of the road. He patiently anticipates the time she goes to the café. After a few hours of waiting, he spots her on the building's lobby, with her peers around her, seemingly chatting about some stuff he doesn't care about. She looks so normal, as if nothing has happened to her. He makes his way outside his car and crosses the road to meet her, which in turn just ends up him standing outside the building's entrance. There he can see her better, as she and her friends enter the café on the entrance on the building's lobby.  He decides to observe them some more before barging in. Two of her female friends went to get their orders while she and a particular male friend sits on a spot together.  They are sitting in the same side and appears to be chatting. Y/N seems to be enjoying it as she laughs along with him.  She doesn't laugh like that around me... He thought. He took one step towards the entrance, then stopped again to take another glance at her. She looks so happy with them. This made him hesitant to continue on his intentions because he also thought that it would do nothing. It's pointless coming in here... I should just leave her alone. That's what she wants. It might be his excessive jealousy, but seeing her with another guy sent an overbearing amount of anger and hurt in his nerves. He can't continue on his plan anymore, for it appears that she had found someone else to lean on, therefore there is no point of him pursuing her. He confirmed it— she doesn't love him. He went back to his car, and drove away with such speed. The car ride back to his house was absolute hell -- he drove carrying the feeling of heartbreak and loneliness with small tears clouding his vision. He almost got caught for over speeding and even thought of crashing it to the traffic in front of him. He blames himself, yet he's pins all of this at her. He loves her, yet he loathes her.  Days have passed, but he still feels the same. He even sent her hundreds of messages and missed calls, to which she didn't even bother to answer. His mind is slowly succumbing into madness. He abandoned everything — his family, his work, and his life is coming next. His family and coworkers are wondering where he is, because he's not even responding to their messages. He's closed himself off to everyone.  He thinks that there is no more point in living, especially if she's not in there. The one who gave him purpose has thrown him away. Everything reminds him of her, and it's driving him insane. He wants her so bad but he can't have her anymore. All of his irrational thinking is clouding the clarity of his judgements and its spiraling him out of control. Drowning within the emotion of anger, sadness, and betrayal, he grabs the object that has been waiting for him for so long.  His handgun. He begins loading it, and switches it off to safety.  He takes one final breath, and then proceeds to point it on his head. The index finger of the hand that holds the gun brushes on its trigger, and in a split second. He fires. He brought his insanity in his grave. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Local Man commits suicide — Cause unknown; no letter found. Calling...

Mrs. Doh "Y/N! Y/N!!!" The voice calls to her in the midst of crying. "My dear Soo! *sob* H-He's gone! My S-s-soo's gone!!!" Y/N can only stare at the tv, wide eyed, with regret slowly creeping up to her. It's all my fault.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Love is like wine as many would say; the longer it gets, the sweeter it tastes. But in the case of Y/n and Kyungsoo's relationship, the 'wine' in their 10 year relationship has grown moldy that it leaves a very strong, unpleasant taste. This only signifies that the love that binds them together has not been nurtured well, therefore creating a very sickening and pungent flavor. A flavor that only Y/N tastes between the two of them.  In the beginning, she thought that he was the one. Others would say that she is lucky in having him in her life— very hardworking, mature, and has a future planned ahead of him. Y/N, on the other hand, compliments him. She is known to be steadfast yet loving and soft; a kind that every man needs. If one were to only view the tip of the iceberg, their relationship would be described as a "dream" relationship.  But plunging further to its depths is where things goes in a much darker turn. Their relationship became toxic as she began to feel trapped under his spell. It's very suffocating, knowing that someone is slowly gaining control of your life.  For her sake, she decided to end it all. But where did it land her? Did she get any satisfaction from what she's done?  The sky is painted gray as countless of droplets plunge into the earth from the skies. It seems to mourn with them for the loss of their beloved Soo. People dressed in black has their tears mixed with rain as their wails adds to the sound of thunder that ravages the clouds. She stands in front of him, yet she couldn't take a look on where he's at. She's at pain too, and its because of the mixture of sorrow and guilt that she feels. She does cherish a handful of good memories with him, and she did love him nonethless. But she never expected that he would go like this. She also knows herself that she has something to do with this "Y/N," his mother calls to her. "I think this belongs to you. We found this at his house... I think you'll need this." In his mother's hand was a shiny, silver ring decorated with a big diamond gem — their engagement ring. It still shines despite the gloomy weather.  She doesn't know why, but something's compelling her to not take the ring. It radiates a certain negative force, causing her fear that screams in the back of her psyche. She's afraid of the item, because it reminds her of him. Noticing that Y/N was not taking the ring, she grabs her left hand and proceeds to insert the ring on Y/N's ring finger. "Please don't loose this," she says to her. "This is the only thing that binds you to him..." They say that emotions get left behind on certain places or items. An example of this is the feeling of happiness, or nostalgia, upon seeing an item or a place that has made a special connection to you. This is also like looking at a photo, wherein as you look into the pictured world presented before you, you either feel the sensation of joy, longing, sadness, or any emotion you think attributed to the picture.  This is the case for the ring he left for her. The memory of betrayal and anger has marked the object, thus Y/N sees this as something dreadful. These certain emotions harnesses energy emitted by the mind, thus attracts certain entities or beings beyond human comprehension. However, If these emotions are strong and lingered long enough, the entity it attracted will find it difficult to leave, because it has already made a strong connection to the emotions. What she thought she has left can never and WILL NEVER leave her at this point. The ring was still in her hand as she made her way back into her own home. Night came and enveloped her room in moderate darkness, with the moonlight shining on her. Her eyes can barely figure anything in the dark, yet it is still open. The longer she sees the ring, the more powerful the guilt grows inside of her, eating away what's left of her sanity. She is alone in her current house with no housemates or relatives to keep her company.   She closes her eyes, yet she can still see his tear-stained face, begging for her. Finally, she delves into sleep  but unbeknownst her, a pair of watchful eyes observe her in the darkness. It feeds off her strong emotions that is caused by the memories that haunts the ring. He promised to take her back, and he will. Even if he's in the afterlife. 

A/N: I finally did it! My first post!!! More coming soon though, please be patient with me. Also, I do apologize if I took too long, did a lot of last-minute changes. Feel free to DM me to help me improve my work. Criticism is accepted, just as long as you are nice about it. See you again on the next part! ^____^

[samthemarvelfan]

See You Again: One Shot

Summary: 5 years after losing Bucky, you find yourself still trying to adjust to your not-so-new version of normal. One knock on your front door changed all that.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, Steve Rogers.

Warnings: A bit of angst and then pure and squishy fluff.

A/N: Hi everyone! Okay so this one kinda got away from me a little bit (AKA its waaaay longer than I intended.) Still, I hope you like it all the same. 

Taglist:@iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @heartofagamotto @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!) Tags are OPEN! Just send an ask :)

Monday.

The sound and smell of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen. Your iced coffee was within an arms reach, using it to kick start your morning.

“Mama, I can’t wait til next year.” Your daughter said proudly, coloring at the kitchen table.

You smiled to yourself, tussling her hair as you put her plate of pancakes and bacon in front of her.

“And why is that, sweet girl?” You asked.

Maggie put down the yellow crayon she’d been scribbling furiously with. “Because Mama, then I get to ride the bus and go to school! Remember what you said? When I’m 5 I get to go to big girl school!” She held up a picture of a wonky school bus with a smiling girl inside.

A chuckle escaped you. “You’re so smart, baby. Do you remember everything I say?”

She nodded taking a big, sticky bite of pancakes. “Yeah. Most of the stuffs anyway. Can you put this one on the ‘frigerator?”

“Of course.” You hung the picture with a homemade play-doh magnet she’s made for you at summer camp last year. Maggie ate happily, as you played music and did the dishes. Mornings like these were your favorite, soaking in the happiness of your daughter before you had to head to work.

You were snuggled with Maggie on the couch, watching Blue’s Clues. She wiggled taking a sip of her apple juice; a treat in her eyes. Usually, you only gave her water.

“Mama, Blue starts with the letter ‘b’!” She shouted excitedly, turning to face you.

Her cerulean eyes lit up at you, looking for confirmation.

You released a shocked gasp, “Oh my gosh, it does! You’re so smart, Maggie!”

She smiled proudly, before turning back to the tv.

“Mama?” She called to you.

“Hm?” You said absentmindedly.

She looked up at you with big eyes once again, “My Daddy’s name started with a ‘B’, too.”

All at once, it’s as if time moved a bit slower. You try your best to hide your reaction from Maggie. “It sure did, baby girl. Well his nickname did, anyway.”

She let out a small giggle, “Oh jeez, I’m so silly, Mama!” She said, pretending to hit her palm against her forehead.

The smallest tears prickled your eyes, “Yes you are, baby. I love you.”

“Wuv you, Mama.” Maggie said, climbing onto your lap and giving you a wet kiss that still smelled of maple syrup.

Glancing at the clock, you notice the time. “Maggie, grab your bag and put your cup in it, Uncle Steve will be here soon.”

She squealed in delight. This was the routine, Steve comes Monday’s and Saturday's to spend time with Maggie, and you do some light office work down at the VA. It was only two days a week, but it made you feel somewhat normal.

As normal as could be.

Steve arrived at 10 am on the dot as usual. “Hey, Ella.” He said smiling, kissing your cheek.

“Hey yourself, someone is excited as al—“

“Uncle Steve!” You were cut off by a high-pitch scream and the pitter-patter of little feet running toward the door.

He crouched and smiled immediately, “Hiya, munchkin!” He scooped her into his arms, carrying her back into the house.

“I brought you a surprise.” He said as he held her.

She instinctively covered her eyes, “I won’t peek! I won’t!”

He placed her down, and pulled a small container of bubbles out of his back pocket.

“Wanna go to the park and maybe blow some bubbles?” He asked her with a smile.

She gasped, “Bubbles! Bubbles, Mama! Uncle Steve brought bubbles!”

You smiled at her excitement, “I see that, baby! Go get your shoes on quick!”

Your smile faltered slightly as Maggie ran to grab her shoes, and Steve noticed.

“You okay?” He asked, rubbing your shoulder.

You nod subtly, “She mentioned him this morning. Just wasn’t expecting her too—hell I never expect her too.”

He smiled, “She’s a smart one, that kid. Remembers everything.”

You smile in an attempt to push the pain away, “I’m always so impressed when she talks about him. It’s like she knows him, Steve. Even though she’s never met him.”

Steve heard the wobble of your voice. He sighed with empathy, before enveloping you in a hug. “He’d be so proud of you. You’re such an amazing Mom, and Maggie...” Steve said pulling back, you noticed the tears brimming his eyes. They must’ve matched yours.

“Maggie is everything good that Bucky ever was. Even more so because she’s half of you. God, she reminds me so much of him.” He smiled fondly.

You feel your lip quiver, “5 years, Steve. I can’t believe he’s been gone that long.” You wipe your eyes quickly, knowing Maggie will be back any second.

Steve cleared the tremors from his throat. “I know.”

“I just wish I got to tell him. I can just see the look on his face...he would’ve been so happy.” You imagine fondly.

“Mama! I got my...Mama? You okay?” Maggie asks, slowing down as she enters the room.

She walks up to you with arms up, and you hoist her to your hip. “Mama’s okay, baby.”

She grabbed your face in her little hands, and shook her head. “Mama sad...” she said quietly.

You kiss her forehead, and hold her to you close. “I’m was a little sad, baby, but seeing you made me so much better. I love you, Maggie.”

“I wuv you, Mama, and I wuv Uncle Steve.” She said happily.

“You do?!” Steve asked, tickling Maggie’s sides.

She laughed for a moment, before clinging to Steve’s neck. “Yeah, and I wuv my Daddy too. I bet he was so nice, Uncle Steve.”

That’s another thing Maggie definitely got from Bucky; knowing just what to say and when to say it.

Steve smiled, and pushed some hair out of her face, “Your Daddy was the best, kiddo. I promise.”

You looked at the clock once more, “Shoot! I gotta go, have a good day, baby!”

You kissed the crown of Maggie’s head, and kissed Steve’s cheek before handing her bag to him, “Lunch is—“

“In the bag.” He said smiling.

“Yeah. Oh and the sunscreen—“

“Little pocket on the front.” He said, handing you your keys.

“Right, oh and don’t let—“

“Don’t let her have anymore juice because she had some already. I got it, Els. Go.” He chucked, ushering you out.

“Okay, okay. Bye, guys!” You said happily.

While you knew talking about Bucky with Maggie was always a good thing, the missing him never got easier. Sure there were days you thought about him less, but he never really left your mind.

Not when the daughter you share is waking you up every morning with hugs and snuggles and kisses.

Bucky missed everything.

He missed the diapers, all those diapers. Her first laugh, and when she said ‘mama’ for the first time. He missed her learn to crawl and her first steps. Bucky never even got to heart her heart beat.

These were things you should have shared with him—memories you should’ve made with him.

You’d gone to therapy. You’d been walked through the stages of grief more times than anyone should have to be. Yet, the hurt was still there. It’s always going to be there, and that’s the life you’ve got to make work now. This—this is your normal.

Friday

“Maggie, don’t touch those cookies, little missy!” You shout from the living room.

She comes sulking out of the kitchen, “Mama you left them on the counter! I see them! They’re right there!”

You chuckle as you finish wrapping the vacuum cord back up to put away. “Yes I did, and they’re for after dinner.”

“That’s not fair!” She whined, fake tears being forced into her eyes.

“Maggie Jane I am in no mood for this. You can either sulk on the couch with no tv, or you can go play in your room until I say your spaghetti is done. Whatcha think?” You asked in your sternest mom-voice.

She wiped the fake tears, “Okay Mama, I go play.”

You bent down and smooched her forehead, “There’s my girl.”

Her feet padded down the hallway, and you made your way to the kitchen, putting on a pot for the pasta.

As you wiped down the counters, you felt something strange; like a surge of energy. The kind that is palpable, and makes your hair stand on end. It was hard to explain, but it was like suddenly the air was electric.

The kitchen lights dimmed four or five times before settling back to normal.

Goosebumps prickled your skin and you’re mind began to race.

“What the hell...” you whispered. “Maggie, you okay?” You called down the hall.

“Yes, Mama! I’m playing with my play-doh!” She responded happily.

Thank God... you thought to yourself.

After what happened 5 years ago, any time something felt off, no matter how small it seemed, you automatically assumed the worst.

You open the shades above your sink. The sun was shining bright—brighter than it had in forever.

“Huh...” you thought aloud.

Before you made the pasta, you sent a quick text to Steve, making sure he was still coming for his weekly dinner. After almost 20 minutes and no response, you figured something came up.

“Maggie! Dinner!” You shout, putting her plate and cup on the table.

She ran into the kitchen with delight, “S’ghetti!” She shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

You scooted her in closer to the table, before sitting in the seat beside her.

“Mama? Where’s Uncle Steve?” She asked taking a bite of her pasta.

You scooted some of the food around on your plate, “I’m not sure, kiddo. I think he might’ve gotten stuck at work.”

“Can we call him?” An innocent question from an innocent mind.

You shook your head, “No, baby. Well call him tomorrow.”

The rest of your evening was relatively calm, considering the unsettling feeling you’ve had since that episode in the kitchen. Maggie had her bath and 2 bedtime stories, and was now safely and soundly tucked in bed.

You, on the other hand, lay awake in your own, your mind unable to quiet the eerily familiar thoughts that something was wrong.

You still hadn’t heard from Steve, which is very unlike him, so you decide to text him once more.

Hey, haven’t heard from you. Weirded out by what happened earlier, idk if it was a power surge or what but now I’m anxiety city. Call me please, so I know you’re safe. Love you.

You sat with that for about an hour, before you eyes betrayed your mind. Your lids felt 1000 times heavier and you decided sleep would be a good idea since Maggie is a notoriously early riser on the weekends. You’ll call Steve in the morning, and if necessary, you’d send out a search party.

Saturday.

You’d surprisingly woken up before Maggie. This meant hopefully and hour or so to yourself, maybe watch a movie without animals that sing? That would be paradise.

As you padded through your living room with your coffee in hand, you jumped hearing someone scream outside.

You put the coffee down and quickly check on Maggie, still sound asleep. Her sound machine muffling the screams and cries from outside.

Peeking out the window, you see your neighbor crying on her knees. She’s holding someone, a boy, no older than 12 or 13.

“Miles?” You ask yourself. He was your neighbor’s son.

He’d also vanished 5 years ago.

“That’s...that’s not possible.” You whisper.

Then you hear it again, more cries. Cries of joy, from all around your neighborhood.

You fumble with the blankets on the couch, searching for your phone. You find it and quickly dial Steve’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Your body is shaking as you hear the beep. “Steve, I-I don’t know what the hell is happening. T-There’s people who...I don’t know. I’m freaking the fuck out! Call me soon...please.”

A knock at the front door makes you jump. You slipped your phone into your pocket, and walked to it slowly.

With your hand on the knob, you hesitate, feeling your body screaming at you not to open it.

Another set of knocks, softer than the ones before had been.

You let out a puff of air, and swing the door open. When it revealed your visitor, you swear you could have fainted right then and there.

This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be real.

“Hey, Sugar.” He said breathlessly.

His hair was in a bun at the nap of his neck, and he was dressed in a black Henley and sweats to match. His face was bruised and cut and the circles under his eyes showed whatever he’d just been through definitely wasn’t easy.

You felt like you were gonna collapse. The room was spinning and your vision went blurry.

“Y-You’re dead. You’re dead, James.” You spoke. What else could you say?

“Ella, you gotta sit down, your pale as a ghost.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you back into the house.

Bucky kicked the door closed, the sound of it slamming seemingly braking your trance.

“Let me go!” You shout, pulling away from him.

“Els—“ he starts.

You shake your head, “No...stop. You’re not real. I’m hallucinating or something.”

When Bucky first died, you saw him everywhere. Swearing to yourself, and your therapist, that you could still hear him—smell him.

He reached out and stroked your cheek, “I swear to you, Doll, I’m real.”

Your eyes stung with tears, “H-How?”

“It’s a long story. One that I promise I’ll tell you but I really just wanna hold you for a second.” He breathed.

You stared at him. Bucky was, for all intents and purposes, unchanged. He looked the same way he did when he vanished.

You on the other hand looked entirely different. The crinkles by your eyes were more defined, there were stretch marks on your belly from carrying Maggie, and those chronic bags under your eyes from raising her alone.

Bucky took a tentative step forward, before taking your face in his hands. He took you in for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around you. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He said into your hair.

You felt yourself melt into him, something you’d done so many times, it’s no wonder it happened so naturally.

“You always know just what to say.” Your voice was trembling.

You inhaled him. A lifetime of memories flooding your mind, along with all the pain you’d felt for the last 5 years. You shut your eyes tight, keeping the warmth of his body against yours. “I-I can’t even begin to tell you—“

“Shh, I know. Believe me, Els...I know.” He whispered.

You looked up at him. His cerulean eyes reminding you of all the life you’d lived with him, and of the one you’d loved without him. But Bucky was here, standing in the home you’d once shared together.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, “Buck, I need to tell you...” your voice drifted off.

Bucky brushes the hair out of your face, “What is it, Sugar?”

You shook your head, still having trouble believe this is real. “I just, I don’t know where to start, James...”

He kissed your forehead sweetly, his warm lips soothing your soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until this moment.

“Start from right now. I don’t know how to navigate this...but we can figure it out. To—“

“Mama?” Maggie’s small voice interrupted Bucky’s words.

You peek around his large form to see your daughter clinging to her stuffed piglet that shows all the signs of being well-loved for the past few years.

You sigh contently, “Good morning, beautiful girl.”

She quietly walked by Bucky, looking up at him as he stares at her in disbelief. Maggie held her arms out for you and you hoisted her to your hip.

“Ella...” Bucky says breathlessly, looking between the two of you.

He sees it immediately. The eyes that are mirror images of his own, the dimple on her cheek matching the one you have on yours.

You kissed her temple. “This is Maggie.”

A muffled sob sounded from Bucky’s chest, “Maggie...” he whispered happily.

She turns her head at the sound of her name and looks at him, watching him for a moment, taking him in.

“Does your name start with a ‘B’?” She whispered, fiddling with her stuffy.

Bucky smiles and let out a small laugh, “It sure does.”

Maggie turns back to you, her eyes wide with excitement. “Is that my Daddy, Mama?”

You squeeze her tight, blinking the tears away. “It is, baby.”

She wiggles to be put down on the floor, so you oblige.

Confident as always, she walks up to Bucky, and he crouches to meet her. “I’m Maggie.” She says, holding back a giggle.

Bucky smiles and strokes her hair, “Hi, Maggie.” He chokes out.

She spots the tears in his eyes and turns to you. “Mama? Is Daddy sad?”

Daddy

A word that was once so painful for you to hear her say, was now your favorite sound in the world.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Why don’t you ask him?” You say, crossing your arm comfortably.

She turns back to Bucky with her arms raised, and he scoops her up without a second thought. She places her little hands on his face and look at him, “Daddy sad?” She asks.

Bucky’s lip quivered, and he shook his head. “No, beautiful. D-Daddy isn’t sad.” You could tell he couldn’t believe he was saying that word.

“Daddy is so, so happy.”

Bucky has spent the day getting to know his daughter.

Maggie had shown him all of the pictures she’s drawn of him over the years. They’d had a tea party for lunch, and played with her play-doh.

You’d put her down for a nap, and Bucky washed the dishes from lunch. It all felt so routine, domestic...

Normal.

Bucky told you everything.

Thanos. The army. Natasha, and Tony. Oh God, Tony...Your heart hurt for him, and the thought he’d never see his daughter again.

“I’m so sorry, Sugar.” He said, sipping coffee from his mug.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Why are you sorry?”

He thought for a moment, before he grabbed your hand, entangling your fingers.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I made you do all this alone.” He pulled you close to him, so you were leaning against his body.

“I should be apologizing to you, I never even got to tell you...” you drifted off.

He turned your face to his, and put his lips on yours.

Passion wasn’t even an accurate enough word.

This was gratitude. This was fear, it was heartache and lust and yearning all wrapped into one.

This was love.

Bucky pulled away slowly, resting his forehead on yours.

“You’ve given me everything, Ella. Maggie...she’s--she’s incredible, and you made her that way.” The tears in his eyes finally spilled over, as did yours. “I can’t wait to get to know her.”

“I love you, James. I love you.” You said quietly.

Bucky stroked your cheek, “I love you, too.”

[charlottemadison42]

Timepiece

A new short story on AO3, 2.3k words, rated G, dedicated to the very dear @musegnome!

----

Crowley got a new watch at least once a year.

He liked them sharp and cutting-edge, bespoke and exclusive and expensive. By the time anyone else heard of the craftsman or the brand, he was ready to cast it off and find something better. From the first decorative clunkers of the early 1500's to the quartz revolution, he was always up to speed on the best of the best. Connoisseurs in Geneva and Tokyo and Dubai kept a lookout on his behalf these days. When they called, doubtless raving about a new mechanism or a new maker, he always picked up.

He didn't think about why he liked watches. If anyone had ever asked Crowley (nobody did) he'd have shrugged. His corvid instinct to collect shiny status markers was reason enough.

(And if every skip of the second hand offered proof of his progress away from the fourteenth century -- one step farther from Golgotha, farther from the flood, farther from the Fall -- that thought was seldom admitted entry to the fortress of his mind. Crowley looked forward, not back.)

Aziraphale had owned a total of four watches in his life thus far.

He liked the kind of timepiece that required winding by hand, with a little key, although he often forgot to. Luckily when he needed to know the exact time, his watch obliged him anyway.

It was conceivable that Aziraphale enjoyed the sensation of suddenly remembering, "Oh! I forgot to wind my pocketwatch!" because he delighted in having some small duty to do, a simple task at which he could not fail, a way he could help the world tick along.

For -- what was a mechanical pocketwatch, if not an elegant dynamic sculpture of the universe as humans experienced it? Aziraphale waxed philosophical about such things in the comfort of his favorite reading chair, while he smoothed the shiny etched surface with his thumb til he knew every groove. He meditated often and fondly about his watch as a Metaphor for Things.

(But the angel never asked where it might be leading him. Aziraphale looked over his shoulder at history with a loving melancholy sigh, watchfully guarding over the sum of human experience. But he did not look ahead. He hated endings.)

+++

Warlock Dowling went through an especially rambunctious phase at age six. He was old enough that his parents' neglect was starting to emerge from the background of his young reality into a Phenomenon that he Noticed. And the more Warlock Noticed it, the more he Did Not Like it, and he took it out on everyone within reach.

Nanny Ashtoreth's attempts to dress him resulted in arching and kicking and flailing fists. Brother Francis's nature walks ended with tantrums in the dirt. Warlock began to enjoy ruining things when he learned that he could: tearing up his own drawings, ripping leaves off the tulips and ferns, pouring grape juice on white linens, breaking toys. It made him feel powerful.

"Hell could learn a thing or two from this one," Crowley muttered.

"I expect they're going to, since he'll be running the show if we fail to do something about this," Aziraphale snapped in reply.

Neither angel nor demon had been prepared for the inexhaustible physical frenzy of an outraged six-year-old Antichrist.

But when Warlock finally smashed Aziraphale's pocketwatch on a paving stone in a fit of rage, the poor child broke through something else, too.

Warlock stared at the pieces of glass and the crushed face on the ground, at the minute hand all bent out of shape. He looked up at Brother Francis. He looked at Nanny, running across the lawn toward them.

And he started bawling. ...

[Click through to read more or finish on AO3]

Warlock knew that watch was special. He knew it was very old and delicate. In fact, the watch was the reason he'd learned the definitions of "fragile" and "breakable" and "irreplaceable." Once he had command of those words, he'd been allowed to hold it while seated on Brother Francis's lap. He'd even learned how to wind it, awestruck by the action and the shine. He always included the watch when he drew pictures of Brother Francis, attached by a chain of lumpy circles to the pocket of his baggy trousers.

Now the fragile breakable irreplaceable thing lay in pieces on the garden path.

Aziraphale was terrible at hiding his feelings. He was shocked and saddened, and it showed all over his face, though he did his best to suppress it. Every time Warlock looked up at him, the child cried harder.

Aziraphale was rapidly realizing that if he miracled his watch back together, even discreetly, Warlock was old enough that he would notice its reappearance. Warlock noticed everything. So the watch would have to stay at home, unworn, for several years at least -- perhaps until the end of the world. It had survived the Blitz, the trenches, the Seven Years' War, the Crimean War, and a number of unfortunate dining mishaps (though it was perhaps helped along by a few frivolous miracles). Aziraphale had not gone without it since he purchased it from the watchmaker himself back in 1689, in a dim workshop on the outskirts of Zürich. The angel felt some epoch ending. Endings made him sad. Especially these days, when they reminded him of The End.

But Crowley was there; of course Crowley was there. She scooped Warlock up in her arms even though he was getting big for that. She held him tight as he sobbed.

"Here's a how-de-do," she groaned, assessing the situation.

Aziraphale had been crouched over the ruined watch for so long now that his knees were stiff. He stood up and sighed heavily. "I suppose it's...it's only a watch," he said, dispirited. "I shouldn't grow so attached to worldly goods. ...And it's an opportunity to teach compassion, model forgiveness, and discuss respect for others' things, as well." He was letting the accent slip in his sadness, but Warlock was as far from paying attention as he could be.

"He's six! He can't track all that!" huffed Crowley.

"Well he's certainly tracking the bit about crushing the world under his heel!"

"Nnnnnrrrrrrgh," Crowley snarled in frustration. She was caught between her mandate to teach Warlock to be fantastically evil and her fear that succeeding would bring about the end of the world.

In the end, though, Warlock surprised them both by doing something entirely human, entirely his own. He cried himself out for several minutes on the lawn, and once he could speak again, he asked Aziraphale:

"Brother Francis, why did I do that?"

Then he looked to his Nanny, silently repeating the question to her with his bleary eyes.

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at one another, blinking.

"Um," said Crowley.

"...Why d'you think ye did, me lad?" asked Aziraphale, retreating from his hurt feelings into his ridiculous bucktoothed persona.

Warlock sniffed. "I don't know. I din't think it would feel like that." He squatted and poked the exposed paper of the clock face.

Crowley knelt down next to him. "Can you put it back together?" she asked.

"No."

"So what do you think you should do now?"

"Nnnno!"

"That's not even...nngh." Crowley looked helplessly to the angel. But they were both at a loss.

"Can we go inside?" Warlock finally pleaded.

And so they did. As Nanny and Warlock walked away, Crowley restored the pocketwatch with a snap of her fingers without even looking back. It was good as new once again.

But Aziraphale knew that its time had come. He picked it up, enjoying the way it fit just so in his palm -- the comfort of a handful of crystallized time -- and then he clicked it shut and sent it back home to the bookshop, where it would have to stay for now.

That evening, just before supper, Warlock showed up on the porch of the greenhouse with Nanny in tow. His little face was wrinkled up in concern and contrition and other Very Grown-Up Feelings as he presented Brother Francis with a card. It featured a colored pencil drawing of all three of them holding hands, and yellow triangles on the ground to represent the afternoon's event. The unsteady lettering inside read "soRRY for yuor wAtch From wARLock."

"I made you this," said Warlock, and he handed over the most awkward little handcrafted project. It was roughly disc-shaped, and it featured play-doh, pipe cleaners, and glitter glue. The face was sharpied directly onto the half-dried crumbling clay, and the chain was made of taped rings of construction paper.

It plucked every heartstring the angel had. He melted on the spot.

Crowley rolled her eyes as Aziraphale poured out fond words of thanks for his new watch and forgiveness for the old one, embracing Warlock between tearful phrases. But Crowley also had her least cruel smirk on, the one that was very nearly affectionate.

Before they left, Crowley also noted in a low voice that there had been no more trouble with kicking and screaming and tearing up houseplants today. Warlock had been upset twice, but had managed to calm himself down without help both times.

After she took Warlock away, Aziraphale tried to miracle protection over his new handmade treasure so that the play-doh wouldn't crumble and the paper wouldn't crush -- only to find that Crowley had already done so.

+++

Two nights later, on a crosstown bus bound for Soho, Aziraphale noticed that the lanky redheaded passenger in front of him happened to leave behind a small shopping bag when he disembarked. Aziraphale folded up his newspaper and slipped into the empty seat to take a closer look. Inside was a wooden box wrapped in plain black paper. It was marked "AZ" in black ink that was only detectable by its slightly more reflective shine.

Aziraphale opened it right there, and of course, of course it was a new pocketwatch. From Crowley. Crowley knew watches. And Crowley knew Aziraphale.

It was hard to date this one exactly, but he estimated the 1820's, and English-made; it was thin and modern and elegant, much lighter than the other. It was in excellent condition, although pleasantly worn with time. He spent the rest of the bus ride home admiring it, listening to it, growing familiar with the new face, wondering who it might have belonged to before. When he reached his stop, he slipped it into the waistcoat pocket meant for the purpose, and he felt like a new angel.

Gifts. How strange. A gift from Warlock, and a gift from Crowley. Gifts of time, restored.

Perhaps there was still time enough before the end of the world. Perhaps there might be time, after.

Aziraphale set the new pocketwatch down on his desk back at the bookshop, right next to his old favorite of several hundred years and his handcrafted masterpiece from Warlock. He had never thought to own more than one pocketwatch at a time. Now he had three.

He picked up the telephone to call the responsible party and offer sincerest thanks, but after some dithering, he decided not to. Crowley hated thanks. Crowley could even be endangered by thanks, if the two of them weren't careful.

Perhaps, instead, Brother Francis could show the new timepiece to Warlock and Nanny in the morning. He could explain how precious this watch was, since it was a gift from a friend. He could say that breaking something irreplaceable was sad, but it was not the end, not as long as the world spun on. He could talk about the way new things follow old ones -- and though the new things might be different, they could be lovely too. New things were worth holding out hope for, and worth learning to treasure, given time.

And after explaining all of that to Warlock, he could give Crowley a wink.

Which would communicate his thanks for the gift far better than any phone call.

+++

Over the next few years, Crowley found himself browsing for new wristwatches more and more often in his spare time. He bought them at a faster clip, too -- three in the year Warlock turned seven, six the year after that. Each was sturdier than the last, made to withstand impacts and temperatures and pressure that no watch was likely to encounter in the wild. But Crowley could feel the world running down, he could see the future he looked forward to contracting into nothing, and he burned with protective instincts as everything in him rebelled.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale spent more and more time with his books, especially history and memoirs. As he looked back over the story of humanity that he loved, the story he'd spent so much time recording and remembering, he felt it all spinning up to something awful indeed: The End. When Warlock turned nine, Aziraphale turned to his books of prophecy, feeling no small amount of distress. Looking ahead was painful for him, especially now. The future was unsafe, it was wild, it was ineffable, and unfortunately it looked to be very very short. Aziraphale did not forget to wind his pocketwatch anymore. It was a tool now more than a treasure, as The End drew near. It seemed important to remember what time it was, these days.

+++

As it happened, Aziraphale almost didn't notice when his fourth watch joined the collection.

In his defense, it was rather a busy day.

And since the new pocketwatch was identical to the one that Crowley had given him, down to the last molecule, it was unsurprising that making the connection took the angel a little time.

But some weeks after the End of All Things didn’t quite, Aziraphale realized that the watch in his waistcoat pocket was a gift as well. And this time it wasn't from Crowley.

When the thought occurred to him, sitting in his favorite chair in his restored bookshop, Aziraphale gasped faintly and set aside his well-worn copy of Now We Are Six. He had been revisiting children's literature lately for some reason. The Just William books had set him on a roll.

"Crowley, dear," he said.

"Nnnnghm?" Crowley hummed from the couch, where he sprawled limbless and relaxed as a squashed spider might if it were sort of into being squashed.

"We really ought to go and visit Tadfield sometime soon, don't you think?"

"Ngk."

"I have a great deal to thank Adam for, after all. And we should check in on everyone."

"Mmf."

Aziraphale palmed the fourth watch he had ever owned and ran his thumb over the back. "Do you think a wristwatch would be an appropriate belated birthday gift for someone Adam's age?" he asked absently.

Crowley windmilled himself up off the couch and sauntered over to give Aziraphale a peck on the cheek. "Hell if I know. Prob'ly. Maybe. More tea?"

"Yes, it's about that time, isn't it? Thank you, darling. Ever so."

[lovemesomesurveys]

- Past - Are you happy with your upbringing? Yes.

Who was your first best friend? My mom.

Who was your first love? Joseph.

Did you ever attend any school dances? Yeah, I went to a few middle school ones, as well as my prom and formal.

Did you play any sports growing up? Nope.

Did you have a special blanket when you were younger? I had my favorite pink soft blanket I had since I was little. 

What movie reminds you of your childhood? Disney movies for sure. 

Were you a picky eater as a child? Yeah, I’ve always been picky.

What's your favorite memory with a family member? I have so many.

Did you ever have to share a bedroom? No.

Are there any smells that remind you of the past? Absolutely. One that comes to mind is Play-doh, which is always reminds me of kindergarten. I remember it smelling like that.

Did you play outside or inside as a child? I actually played outside all the time, which is surprising if you knew me now.

What was your first favorite song? Probably something from Barney.

Were you ever pranked at a sleepover? No.

- Present - What's your favorite color to wear? Black. Who is your favorite musical artist? I can’t ever choose one.

Do you have any pets? Yep, I have a doggo.

If so, how many and what kind? I have a 4 year old German Shepherd/Lab mix named Princess Leia.

Do you live with your parents or on your own? I live with my parents, brother, and doggo.

Are you in school? Nope.

Do you have a job? No.

If so, do you like it? --

How often are you on the internet? I spend a lot of time on the internet daily.

On average, how much time a day do you spend on your appearance? Oh, very little. I’ve stopped putting much effort awhile ago. :/

Do you have any children? No.

Are you in a relationship? No.

Are you subscribed to any streaming services? Yeah, several. All the main ones.

What time do you usually go to sleep and wake up? I go to sleep in the early morning hours and wake up in the morning a few hours or around noon. 

- Future - Do you have any long term goals? No.

Do you want children? (or more if you already have any) Nope.

Where would you like to be in your career five years from now? I don’t see anything happening in 5 years in regards to that.

Do you think you'll ever move from the city you're in? I’d love to, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon.

How do you hope your life will look in 10 years? I’d like to be doing better health wise and just all around, but it’s hard to see that happening. :/

Do you think you're heading in that direction? No, definitely not which is why it’s hard for me to even imagine things changing. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #422

“i will not become a figure of my mistakes  /  i will not become the mask that is not my face”

Have you ever been told you were a good writer? I've been told that's one of my "gifts." What do you put on your baked potatoes? Butter, American cheese, and bacon bits. Gooood shit. What are you listening to? I'm re-watching Gab Smolders play Parasite Eve. Love that game to bits, and I really enjoy how she has a legitimate appreciation for it despite its age. It's so great watching her fall in love with a game she knew nothing about. Did you ever have braces? Yes. Are you afraid of flying? I acknowledge the risks of it, but I don't really actively fear it. Are you short? No; I'm your average height for an American woman of my age. Have you ever used a fire extinguisher? No. Would you want your future children to date someone like you as a teenager? I was a fine teenager, so sure. Are you unhappy at the moment? That's quite the understatement. When’s the last time you got in trouble with your parents? *shrug* How many children do you want? None. It's funny though, I had a dream last night that I gave birth to a daughter I of course named Alessandra. Have you ever watched Keeping Up With The Kardashians? No. Do you have any career ideas in mind? I have no desire to talk about this right now. Do you have any gay friends? Yeah. Are you gay yourself? I'm bi. Are you doing anything this weekend? Of course I'm not. But that's a surprise to nobody. How many brothers do you have? One. Do you like Mexican food? Only very few things. What’s your best friend’s pet’s name(s)? Oh man. Some are family pets more than hers, but regardless, there's Buster, Beasley, Winter, Martha, Crowley, Little Dot, Jane Marie, Doris, Raisha, and a bunch of other fish. Did you go to work today? I don’t have a job. .-. How old are you? How old do you act? 25. I think mentally I'm capable of acting older, but as far as "being an adult" goes, taking care of mature responsibilities, I'm a child. What size shoe do you wear? I... haven't worn anything but flipflops in so long that I barely know. I want to say an 8? 7 1/2 depending on the shoe? Are there any spiders in your room right now? I dunno. What was your favorite class during your sophomore year of high school? Art, for sure. Who’s your favorite Disney character? Probably Dory. Are there any framed pictures of you in your house? With my sisters, yes. Do you wear bandanas in your hair? No. Have you ever been on a blind date? No, not interested. Do you need to shave? My legs look like a gorilla's. My armpits, slightly. I shave them every time I shower, so I'll shave them soon. Are you wearing makeup right now? No. I never do nowadays. Do you know anyone named Laura? Not off the top of my head. Do you have any exercise equipment in your home? A few things. How many living grandparents do you still have? None. What are your plans for the rest of the day? Nothing, really. I hope I read today, though. I haven't the past couple days and I refuse to totally lose my habit of it again. How many times have you been sick this year? None. What colour is your toothbrush? White. Do you have a favourite author? No. How long do you usually take in the shower? Barely even 10 minutes. I do nooot understand how some people take so long. Clean yourself, get out. Like I get it if you're shaving or doing "extra" stuff besides washing your hair and body, but generally, how???? Have you ever worked in an office? No, but as I prepare to job search again, that's what I'm aiming for, I guess. It sounds like something I (including my legs, given I'd be sitting) could possibly handle. But yeah, you need experience in absolutely everything nowadays to get any job, it seems. Have you ever stayed in a hotel without your parents or older relatives? Yes. Have you ever kissed anyone under the mistletoe? I actually don't think I have. What’s your go-to activity when you’re bored? Watch YouTube. Who was the last person you texted? The lady who works in my psychiatrist's office to verify my next appointment date. Do you see yourself married in the next five years? Probably not, really. How long does it take you to get ready to go out? Barely over five minutes, or less, depending on what I have to do. Do you own any clothes you wouldn’t wear in front of your mother? No. Have you changed much this year? I haven't changed at all. And that's not a good thing. Is there a girl that you truly hate? A corner of my mind says yes. Even though I have no right to. Do you have any candles in your room? No, but I do have a wax warmer. Have you ever had to dial 911 before? A couple times for Mom. What’s something in your past that you’ll always remember? I'm almost certain even dementia couldn't take away my memory of the breakup. Did you have a good birthday this year? Yeah, it was good. How many people have told you they were in love with you? Two. Do you find smoking unattractive? Yes. How slowly or quickly would you say you eat? I eat way too fast, but I literally can't figure out how to change it. I try to slow down, but it just... doesn't stick. It's so engrained in me as a habit. Do you remember how you felt on 9/11? I was too young to remember this. What do you think of people who always wear make-up? You go for it, you look great. What’s a smell that absolutely makes you gag? Severely decaying roadkill is very high on the list. Is there a smell that gives you headaches? Gasoline. What about one that reminds you of the past? Play-Doh, for one. Childhood things like that. Also like those really fruity lip glosses, etc. What’s your least favorite thing about summer? The fucking heat and humidity. What’s your least favorite thing about the holiday season? The knowledge I don't have the money to buy like anyone presents. Especially my niece and nephew. Mom helps me buy something for them, but still... I feel like such a bad aunt that I can't do it myself. Other than yourself, who knows you the best? Whoever reads these, probably, ha ha. Do you have any embarrassing qualities and, if so, what are they? I'm just awkward in general. What’s one complaint that you have about school? Common Core. It's awful. What do you do while you’re on campus but not in class? I would just go to the library and do stuff on my laptop. Do you know anyone who has Autism/Asperger’s syndrome? Yes. It's questionable that I myself may have high-functioning autism. Has anyone of the same sex ever hit on you? Yeah. Are you open to a same-sex relationship and why or why not? Yes, because I'm bisexual. Have you ever dressed like or worn clothing belonging to the opposite sex? I would wear Jason's pj pants sometimes. Have you ever found yourself to be ugly? I've always believed I'm ugly. Have you read the Twilight series and do you like it or dislike it? I never read the series or watched the movies. Have you been on any type of online messengers today? I've used Discord to message Sara. What is your state’s minimum wage? $7.25 an hour. Disgusting. Do you own a tablet of any kind? No. If you eat eggs, how do you eat them? I only enjoy scrambled eggs or omelettes. When you’re upset, do you vent to people or do you keep to yourself? Nowadays, I tend to keep it to myself or vent through surveys. Have you ever watched a meteor shower? No, but I would love to. Do you like Slim Jims? OH MY GOD YESSSSSSSSSS. I want one now. What’s your opinion on the color turquoise? I think it's very pretty. Have you ever been in a castle? Only the Disney World one. When you were little, did you ever play with Play-Doh? Of course! I loved doing that. Would you rather write a mystery or love story? Hm... probably a love story. Are you afraid of getting shots? Kind of. I just hate the feeling of the medicine being injected, and long needles puncturing skin makes me want to squirm a bit. Needles in general though, I'm not afraid of. Would you ever run away and get married with no notifications to your family? Uh, no. I'm close with my immediate family and would want them to know. Have you ever wanted to vlog? Noooo. My life is so very boring, not to mention I would feel WAY too awkward. Who was the last person who unexpectedly texted you? No one unexpectedly texts me. Have you ever voluntarily read the Bible? Some of it. Have you ever thought that your life was so bad you wanted to give up? Many times. Do thunder & storms scare you? Actually, since I started having recurring tornado nightmares, I started to sort of fear them again. What are two foods you think only taste good with whipped cream? I hate whipped cream. If you eat it, what is your favorite way to eat beef? Cheeseburgers. Are you insecure about your height? What made you think this way? No. Did your last significant other have a huge temper? No. Would you ever think about doing porn? NOOOOOOOOO, even if I was in good shape. Would you ever cheat on someone if they cheated on you? No. That's not going to fix anything. Do you like getting jewelry or do you not wear any? I don't mind it, but I don't really wear it. When you were in high school did you ever have bomb threats? Once or twice. He was a... troubled kid. Did/Do you get school cancellations because of snow? Oh yes. My area flips shit if there's even a risk of like an inch of snow. Who knows ALL of your secrets? Nobody. Do you eat dinner with your family every night? No. Have you ever thought about what it would be like to have a baby right now? No, not really. That would be fucking awful. There's no way I'd be able to raise it. Have you used Limewire before? Back in the day. Are you/Were you in a band? If so, what was your band name? No. Have you ever tried cocaine or heroin? No thanks. Do you own any shirts with a peace symbol on it? No. I'd wear one, though. Have you ever dyed your hair light auburn? No. Ever had ice cream dots? Dippin' Dots? Yes. Do you have your national flag hanging up anywhere outside your house? No. Would you ever go to Japan? I'd like to. Have you ever been in a choir? When I was a kid in Catholic school, yes. What did you eat for breakfast today? Honey Nut Cheerios. When is the next time you’ll be up on stage? Preferably never.

[mollyringle]

My husband watches The Untamed, vol. 22, episodes 41-42

Episode 41: The action is ramping up, people! Into Nie Mingjue’s very angry memories we go.

When NMJ and Jin Guangyao are having their shouting match at Carp Tower, and JGY starts getting that satisfied little smile at NMJ’s rage, husband said in Darth Vader voice, “YES. Use your hate.”

He was actually laughing sometimes at how INTENSELY ANGRY AND LOUD Mingjue gets. But then, that’s the point of the mangled music, not to mention the genetic rage-sword problem.

Husband said “Yes!” in triumph when NMJ kicks JGY down the stairs. Although he was disappointed the hat didn’t come off in the fall.

Xue Yang looks so happy when ordered to kill NMJ. Like, “Yay! I love doing that!” As the meme about him says, “the thing to remember about a murder is to have fun and be yourself.”

We laughed at how WWX, LWJ, and LXC all come to a halt and look awkward when Jin Ling stops them at Fragrance Hall. “Uh…not sure what we tell the teenager.”

Then when JGY strolls in, all sweet murder dimples, husband said, “Doh! He moved everything already. He’s sneaky.”

And when Su She shows up: “Oh! Oh, that’s—he’s the one—he let them in—and so he’s the—okay.” So I guess he’s put together the pieces regarding Su She.

After the episode, I remarked that when you look back on the whole Jin family, Jin Zixuan really wasn’t so bad, considering. Me: “He was half okay.” Husband: “Yeah, but…he was SO BAD at it.” [At being nice to Yanli.] Me: “It WAS kind of like Pride and Prejudice. ‘Despite your family being embarrassing and awful, I do like you and want to marry you…’” Husband: “He was so bad at it.”

Also, later, he looked at our dog, who is a corgi with reddish-orange and white fur, and started laughing, and said, “He’s Red Bork Master! Anytime something alarms him, he just starts borking loudly.” That is, same way Nie Mingjue gets loud and shouty anytime he’s alarmed.

Romantic impromptu wedding on the steps of Carp Tower in the next episode! My heart sings in anticipation.

Episode 42:

And we lose yet another woman. Poor Qin Su. I’ve got to hand it to Jin Guangyao; he plays the “grieving and innocent” thing pretty well.

Also got to hand it to Nie Huaisang: he plays the “what, the Yiling Patriarch is ALIVE?” thing pretty well. ;)

I read in some article that the censorship extends to not letting our boys hold hands, which is why they’re always holding each other’s wrists instead, and now I keep noticing all the wrist-holding/not-quite-handholding.

The romantic public declaration on the stairs: husband laughed and said, “We’re going to do this now? Um. Swords! All around!” Meanwhile the look on Lan Xichen’s face, people! His ship is happening IRL and he can’t even breathe.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t even say anything, but you can feel his deep conflict going on. I actually feel bad for him in the aftermath of this episode. He doesn’t even know for a while if his brother’s dead (again) or not, and it’s clear he does care but can’t admit it.

When Lan Wangji does the emergency blue-light healing on Wei Wuxian in the rain, then stops and “puts away” his magic with that little twist motion at his chest, my husband called it “putting the lid back on.” It does rather look like twisting the cap back onto a pill bottle.

I managed not to make any remarks about stroking swords together in bed (and husband didn’t say anything about it either), but I WAS THINKING IT.

I did note that it must’ve been quite comfortable for Xiao Zhan to not have to wear the many-layered robes for this one scene; just a comfy shirt (“Lan Zhan’s underwear”) and pants.

OK, so, there’s a scene in the Mel Brooks movie ‘Young Frankenstein’ involving a revolving bookcase, and when they show the similar one in the Library Pavilion, my husband said (quoting that film), “Put—the candle—back!” That’s for all three of you who’ll get that…

Lan Wangji: “This is the Forbidden Chamber.” My husband: “He [WWX] spends all his time in forbidden places.” Me: “True. Forbidden caves, forbidden rooms, forbidden Burial Mounds…” Husband: “Forbidden sofa, forbidden chaise longue, forbidden ottoman…”

At the mention of the library’s section of “strange music,” we made several jokes along the lines of “that one experimental album of Sting’s is here” and “the solo Beatles albums during the drug years” and so forth.

Also, at The Collection of Turmoil (“great album name!”): “You don’t even have to play it backward to hear the devil’s voice.” Kids these days and their SATANIC MUSIC, you guys!