#current task

[etherealspacejelly]

me when the disability disables me: oh what the fuck? this sucks. what the hell man!

[bet-on-me-13]

It's a Deal.

So! Steph is in a bit of a Bind. Literally.

Her Father had just discovered that she was the Vigilante who kept ruining his Plans, and decided to Deal with her. So he tied her up at a Bomb Site for one of his Plans and left her to die there.

No matter how much she struggled, she couldn't escape the Ropes, and time was running out. If only she had managed to get that last message out to Batman in time, maybe he would have come to rescue her.

The Timer had nearly reached Zero, when all of a sudden Time Stopped. The Ropes around her fell away, and a guy walked up to her as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Hey, you seem to be in a bit of a bind."

"Not so much anymore, was that you?"

"Yeah, bit of a Free Sample. See, I'm in a bit of a bind as well. I made a Deal with these floating Eyeballs, and long story short in order to keep my town safe I need to take the Soul of an Innocent person."

"And is that where I come in?"

"Yup, Basically I save your life, help you out with whatever you want, and you give me the rights to your Soul."

"What if I just walk away while time is stopped?"

"The building is Locked down tight, and I can't actually hold Time stopped for too long either way, it's sort of a new power to me. Without my help you wouldn't get out in time."

"So it's sell my soul or die?"

"Trust me,I don't like it either, but it's what I have to do."

"You know what, sure. You help me escape, help me take down The Cluemaster, and I'll give you my Soul."

"Then it's a Deal."

"I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

[theriverbeyond]

crafters. in front of you is a pair of scissors. above you is an anvil. your task, should you choose to accept it, is to keep track of these scissors for 8 consecutive crafting hours. you are not allowed to lose the scissors, misplace the scissors, give up and purchase new scissors, or use a kitchen knife, boxcutter, or exacto knife in desperation. if you fail, the anvil will fall on you. your time begins now

[quillcraftconquer]

John Price x Ex-Wife Part II

Didnt realize you guys loved the angst so much (honestly same.)

Tw: Angst, unprotected piv, verbal argument.

(WIP still. I promise there’s more.)

—-

It was already dark out, the front porch light shining through the small glass windows that accompanied your front door. You had already put your son to bed, been woken up, and put him down again a few times. You were in the process of working towards sleep again when you heard a gentle knock on the door.

You struggled with the squirming baby in your arms, trying to avoid the toys that littered the ground around your feet like mines. You heard another small knock on the door, struggling to get to it in time.

"It's open." You called out, knowing that it was John on the other side. The handle turned, and John poked his head in, lips pressed into a tight line. You knew he wanted to chastise you about leaving the door unlocked, but his eyes fell to the floor, observing the toys strewn around, and then back up at you, kicking them out of the way with your son outstretched in your arms. He stepped inside, still dressed in his tactical pants, boots, and a tight fitting tan shirt. If you weren't struggling to keep a hold of your baby and navigate to him, you would have stumbled at the site. John, despite being a few years older than the men he worked with, still looked damn good, with thick forearms laced with dark brown hair and rounded biceps. The only part of his body that showed his age was the grey peppering his hair and the thin layer of fat that laid over his abs. He let a backpack fall from his shoulders, setting it on the ground beside him. He stepped forward, meeting you in the middle of the corridor to take the baby from your arms.

"Hi, love." He cooed at him softly, brushing the wild hair on the baby's head down with his hand. You sighed with relief, bending to pick up some of the toys on the ground and toss them into a bin.

"Been up awhile?" John asked, planting soft kisses on the side of your sons head.

"Up, down, and back up again." You admitted, sitting back on your heels and staring up at John.

"I'm sorry I'm late." He apologized, and you shrugged in response. It wasn't anything new.

"Need help?" He asked, nodding his head to the destruction on the floors. You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment. You did want the help, but you didn't necessarily want John in your house for longer than he needed to be.

"Yes." You finally said in a sigh, and John immediately dropped to his knees, setting your son gently on the floor next to him. John grabbed one of the toys, handing it to your son to play with while he began to gather the others around him, tossing them into the same bin. You helped him gather from your own spot on the floor, occasionally stopping to prevent your son from pulling the toys back out. Finally, both of you on your hands and knees, you met in the middle, picking up the few toys that were left. You both reached for the same toy, your fingers colliding against his hand. The touch made you pause, a tingle running down your spine. Your eyes flickered up at John, who had also paused, his large calloused hand resting on top of yours. His eyes met yours, and you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. Something between love, sadness, and need filled his eyes when you bit your bottom lip.

Had he always been this attractive?

"I-" You started to say, before being interrupted by the babbling coming from your son.

"Da-da. Da-da, da-da" He babbled, reaching his chubby arms out towards John. John's head whipped towards him so fast strands of your hair fluttered across your face.

Your heart tightened in your chest. Your sons first words. Part of you wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor like John was doing, eyes filled with love and adoration as he pulled your son into his lap, chuckling as he encouraged him to say it again.

The other part of you was devastated. Jealously, and guilt from it, coiling in your stomach and replacing whatever feeling John had put there. You, who spent countless hours awake with him. You, who changed the majority of the dirty diapers. You, who waved goodbye to your husband every-other-week to do this alone, and still.

You always came last.

You brushed the feelings aside, plastering a smile on your face as your son curled into his fathers body, eyes heavy with sleep. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you blinked them away quickly.

"I can swing by in the morning, pick him up then." John offered softly.

You nodded, tossing the last toy into the bin.

John rose to his feet, and you followed suit. You reached out towards your son, and John hesitated, still cradling his head to his chest.

"Can I lay him down?" John asked.

You didn't want to take this moment from him.

"Sure. It's down the hall, first door on the left." You said, gesturing to the hallway behind you. John nodded, his eyes grateful as he took a step towards the room. You stopped him as he passed you, grasping his biceps. You could feel his muscles instinctively flex under your fingers, and you smiled a little at the action.

"Take your boots off." You told him, and he obliged, using his free hand to loosen the laces and the stepping on the back of the heel to kick his boots free. You took the boots, setting them to the side and kicking the remnants of dried mud to the side as well. John continued down the hallway, disappearing into your sons room.

You walked into the living room, surveying the mess in there. You dragged a hand down your face before getting on your hands and knees, gathering the toys into a small pile.

You stopped when you saw movement in the reflection of the black screen of the TV. John was standing in front of the couch, now empty handed, but not making eye contact with you.

John was staring straight at your ass.

Normally, you would grumble at him, maybe even lash out at him, but tonight you didn't.

Instead, you arched your back, knowing the bottom of your pajama shorts were already too short, showing off the crease where your thighs met your ass. John sank into the couch, still staring dumbly at you. You could see him shift uncomfortably, hands gathering in his lap to hide the bulge you knew had begun to form.

You were suddenly very grateful you hadn't put pillows on the couch yet.

You swiveled to turn towards him, and his eyes finally jumped up to your face, his face flushing with embarrassment at being caught.

"He's asleep. I'll come by in the morning. What tim-" John stopped himself as you crawled towards him, resting your hands on top of his knees. You pushed his legs apart, slowly stroking your hands up his large thighs. You could already feel how wet you were, each rub of cotton on your clit drowning out the doubt of what you were doing. John was breathing heavier now, watching you as you unbuttoned the top of his pants, the tip of his hard cock already beading with precum as you tugged it out.

“Love…” John sighed, his jaw clenching when you began to stroke him, hand molding around the familiar part of his body you once devoted your life to.

“Love, stop.” John said, unable to control his body as his hips bucked into your hand.

“Tell me you want me.” You breathed, wiggling out of your pajama shorts and climbing on top of him.

“Of course I want you.” John answered, furrowing his brow slightly at your request.

“Show me you want me.” You said, clasping a hand behind his neck as you sank down on him, letting out a moan as your body stretched for him.

You hadn’t had sex since the divorce, almost a year. Your body quaked at the sensation of being filled again, by your ex husband nonetheless.

John grabbed your face between his hands, kissing you desperately as you began to rise and fall on him. He withdrew from the kiss, wrapping his arms around your torso and smashing your body against his chest in a tight hug that matched the feverish need in his kiss. He began to thrust his own hips upwards, and you stifled a cry as your hands gripped the back of the couch behind him.

“I love you.” He mumbled into the shell of your ear, one hand twisting into your hair to hold you close to him. You could feel his pace become erratic, his other hand drifting low to grip one of your ass cheeks as he pumped into you.

Suddenly, his grip tightened, fingers digging into your flesh as you felt the hot release deep inside of you. You groaned, pressing your mouth against his flushed neck to stifle the noise. You remained there, face buried into his neck as you felt him begin to soften.

“Love.” John said, and you drew back to look at him. He lifted a hand to cup your cheek, thumb stroking the side of your face. You leaned into the touch.

“I want you. I need you. But if you want me here, if you need me, you have to stop pushing me away.” He said softly, and you immediately stiffened.

“I pushed you away?” You asked, bewildered at his audacity.

“That’s not what I-“ John started, and you interrupted him.

“It wasn’t your job, or the countless nights alone, or wondering if you were alive that pushed you away? It was me?” You snapped, quickly pulling yourself off of him, causing him to wince. “God, John.” You mumbled, snatching your shorts off the ground and pulling them onto your body. John stuffed his cock back into his pants, lifting his hips slightly to zip them.

“I want to try, love. Us, again. I think we should try.” John said, following you into the front corridor as you kicked his boots at him.

“I think you need to leave.” You bit out, crossing your arms in front of your chest. John’s shoulders slumped as he pulled his boots on, kneeling as he tied the laces.

“I am trying.” John pleaded again, and you couldn’t help but sneer.

“You’ve always been pretty shitty at trying, John.” You said, and John’s face dipped into a frown.

“You’ve always been pretty shitty at letting me.” He grumbled, angrily finishing the laces on his other boot.

“That’s my fault too, isn’t it? I pushed you away and made you a shitty father, didn’t I?” You pressed him, knowing the latter was a lie, but the anger and bile in your throat too strong to swallow.

As if on cue, you heard your son begin to cry from his room. John began to walk towards it, and you put a hand up to his chest to stop him.

“Don’t.” You ordered, and for the first time in knowing him, John grabbed your wrist, not out of love, but out of anger. You could feel how tightly wound he was, body tense as he pushed you, albeit gently, away from his body and out of his way as he walked to your son’s room silently. You balled your hands into tight fists, storming to your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you as tears fell from your eyes.

You knew this was a mistake. A big fucking mistake.

You let the sobs escape, curling into yourself. The emptiness of the bed was almost haunting, and your heart ached with the memories of being able to curl around John when you slept.

You listened to him walk back into the corridor, slamming the front door behind him. You wiped the tears from your face as you pulled up the baby monitor on your phone, heart dropping again with sadness when you saw the empty crib. John had taken your son with him.

You clutched the phone to your body, letting yourself feel every ache as you struggled to fall asleep.

[kxowledge]

kitchen equipment: a guide

[micc0ro]

It's fun to draw with office ballpoint pens!🤗

Error belongs to loverofpiggies

[simsdoll]

last vacation day called for some skiing

[shadyhouse]

if anyone is able to help me out i'd appreciate it, im still broke as hell. this month has been really difficult for me. i worked a total of 5 days all month and my bank account is in the negatives again after paying bills and getting some living essentials. i dont know how im going to pay my rent like this. i applied to a financial relief fund from a local trans advocacy group but it's going to be a few weeks until anything comes from that. if you have literally anything to spare it would help me out a lot 😭🙏 i feel bad ive been asking for help so often and i know everyone is struggling, im working on getting my life back in order but everything fucking sucks and is difficult right now :( even just spreading this is a huge help

pp: paypal.me/bewearrr vnm: tobias_leviathan

thank you 💕💕

[guppybibi]

Late WIP Wednesday ..

(aaa km not sure if i should finish this, it started off strong but just fell off and now my brain isnt working)

Simon’s home & marriage was his refuge, until it wasn't. He knew something wasn't right when you were coincidentally prepared for his return, all dolled up when you greeted him with an “I miss you” kiss. No, he was sure it wasn't you when he saw that the dinner table was prepared with a generous spread of food on it.

There was no reason for you to come this prepared, everytime he comes home from deployment is a surprise. So..how exactly are you this ready? It didn't sit right with him, the whole thing felt like it came out of a painfully obvious scripted reality TV show.

But food was food and after countless weeks spent eating barely edible MRE’s, a home cooked meal was all he needed. Sluggishly, he sat down at his unsaid designated spot at the dinner table. He closely watched if you would sit down at your designated spot, if you didn't; that’d explained a lot. You do end up sitting at your spot, it wasn't all that hard to do though. Dinner with you was unsettling to say the least, all of the small talk you were making felt forced, it’s barely been an hour and he already feels like he's going crazy.

He knows more than to question you upfront though, having gone through enough interrogations to know that he should take his time and that you could get hostile if things don't go your way. You could be a threat for all he knew, and it's better to be safe than sorry. Unsure if it was the right decision, he starts out some sort of small talk himself, asking you some seemingly innocent questions.

“What were yer up to while I was gone, luv?” He asks mid chew. “Oh not much, I just picked up a new hobby actually. Clay sculpting! I've been watching online tutorials, I could say I’ve been getting the hang of it if I do say so myself.” Liar, was all he could think while he subconsciously nodded to your words. You hated clay, not fond of the texture it had and the way it’d get stuck under your nails. Perhaps it was another one of your impulsive decisions, jumping into conclusions should be the last thing he should be doing. It could cost him more harm than good, so he lets it slide. For now at least.

“Sculpting eh? That's new, have ye finished any?” He pauses, swallowing his food. “I’d love to see them.” A spark lights up in your eyes, but it didn't look right. There's a lit candle in there but it's far, far away. The lack of life in your eyes makes his stomach spin like there's a guinea pig rolling around in their wheel in there, it made him want to puke. He wasn't the biggest fan of prolonged eye contact anyway, so he’ll just avoid looking you in the eye to prevent making a mess. “Oh yeah I actually do! They're already displayed on top of our shelves, I’ll show them to you after.” You exclaim, if that was you anyway, which it wasn't.

Dinner passed at an uncomfortably slow pace, Simon swore he could hear each individual tick and tock of the clock, the scraping of utensils against the porcelain plates and each chew you took. He’s gone through debatably louder things than this, the booms of the explosions were unforgettable after all but this somehow takes the cake. Wanting to distract himself further, he helps with washing the dishes which you normally did but you specifically chose today to help do the other minor chores. Water, that was your weak point. He noticed it, you didn't drink water after dinner either. What kind of monster doesn't drink water to hydrate after eating roasted pork?

To test out this thought of his, he decided to ask another question. “I'm heading to the shower, luv. Care to join me?” Meekly, he suggests to you, deep brown eyes staring intently as he awaited the already expected answer. “Oh I..actually already showered earlier dear. Maybe next time.” A dishearteningly dismissive reply, just like he expected. “Alright, suit yourself luv. I'll be back.”

He thought about it, almost forgetting about the bubbly soap running down his body from how deep in thought he was. There was no doubt about it anymore, everything about you being you, pointed away. At this point, he didn't care what the fake you was anymore, rather where you actually were. You could've been dead for all he knew, replaced by the soulless woman that now roams around his home.

This was beyond cruel, beyond the pain physical torture could've caused. It was like the universe was a cat and he was a yarn ball, being played by it meticulously. The whole thing was definitely planned out by a certain someone he knew, the both of you are fairly private so it couldn't have been a random person. He couldn't handle this alone, as much as he’d hate to admit, the situation was way bigger than him to do alone. So, he decides to call a trusted someone.

“You tellin’ me ye think your wife got abducted or something..and a doppelgänger replaced her?” A gruff voice questions, lightly tapping his cigar against the side of the ashtray. Price, him and Kate are the only members of the Task Force so far that Simon allowed you to meet. Well, it unfortunately looks like the sergeants won't get to meet you under these circumstances just yet. Strangely enough, the clocks inside the pub weren't working. Must be a malfunction. The masked man nodded, sighing through his nose when he got a whiff of the alcohol-filled air in the bar.

“I feel so.” He grumbled. “Couldn't she be just having an off day? We all have those, Simon.” John opposes it, it was an unquestionable possibility they couldn't simply ignore. “No, I know my wife. In my years of being with her, she's never acted this way.” Ghost hissed back, a hint of crystal clear impatience seeping out from his words. The lack of respect in his tone wasn't intended, but what could he do when his wife is apparently kidnapped and replaced so seamlessly? “I guess you have a point, but you need to confirm it Simon. You shouldn't make any decision on impulse, if the woman in your home really isn't your wife then this is a bigger issue.”

Then the plan was set, still a little all over the place but there really wasn't any time to lose. Simon would further observe the woman who's allegedly ‘you’ to make sure he isn't making things up, then if he was incredibly sure it wasn't you, he’ll head to the police and file a report for a missing person. In all honesty, it wasn't hard to do, having gone through missions more intense than this. Yet the fact that you were involved made the bugs inside of him crawl, this was totally his fault.

He didn't hide you away from the world enough, he should've just kept you locked inside a cage like the little birdie you were to avoid any danger coming your way. Simon wasn't stupid though, that was inhumane, you were one of the only few people who has managed to make Simon feel less of a ghost and more of a human. So doing such a thing to you was unethical and out of the books, but how could you blame him for subconsciously letting his possessiveness and worry take over when you're literally so far from his grasp? Being so near before that he could easily grip at the back of your top, now so far that the trace of your scent is long gone.

It makes Simon feel sick, his core being left to rot. He comes from the pub to what felt like an empty house, not home because nothing would feel like home without you there. He’d rather be living in a pile of rocks and plywood with you than in a giant mansion without you, that would be the real hell. “Bloody hell..where are you?” He murmurs under his breath, stressedly rubbing his creased forehead. If he could, he’d pry at every surface that comes up within his sight just to find you.

“I’m back.” He whispers, unsure if the fake you was asleep or not. Anyone, human or not wouldn't be happy being woken up from their slumber. “Welcome home, hun. You alright?” Looking up from your cup of tea, you ask. “Yeah, just spoke with the Captain. That's all, no alcohol.” Simon was so used to you being a worrywart about his alcohol intake, telling you that he didn't have any alcohol is practically ingrained into the wrinkles of his brain. But the woman in front of him didn't seem to care less about his health, let alone him in general. The lack of nagging that usually filled his ears to the brim didn't feel right, he would've much rather gone through another one of your yap sessions about how constant alcohol intake affects him in the long run than..just silence.

He feels the desperation inching up on him, eating him whole. At this point, he's willing to admit he doesn't want you. He needs you. He needs to hear your fretful complaints about him getting deployed, knowing you’d shut up because you were used to it by now. He needs you to tell him to include more vegetables in his diet because he's not some kind of carnivore to be eating that much meat. God, he just needs you with him. Whatever bloody thing came with you he’d take like it was on a stupid Black Friday sale.

“Not yet..” He’d think every single night, eyes wide open as he prevents himself from making a rash decision. The woman sleeping soundly right next to him, if that was you..But it wasn't, even if he stared at the unfamiliar woman for ten hours straight, she wouldn't just magically turn into you. Well sure, she was a carbon copy of you from head to toe but she simply just didn't scream ‘you’. Whatever and whoever you were anyway.

“When all is said and done, I think it'll end well Simon. My gut feeling tells me so, it's rarely ever wrong so I’m pretty sure we should trust it.” You ramble on and on, the little amount of alcohol taking over your lightweight self. Simon was still courting you here, yet he remembers it like it's been replayed in his mind like a broken record. He trusted your gut, and he could consider that as one of the best choices he's ever made in life.

But..trusting you now? While you're probably out, all shivering & teeth clattering from the immense cold night? Impossible, he’s fully aware that you're a capable strong woman however..how far can his trust go? How far do you have to venture into someone’s soul to gain their fragile trust, something that can be easily broken with your own bare hands? Ghost doesn't trust you, but Simon does.

“You're a strong gal, you can hold on for much longer.” He supposes, deep in thought while he flipped around in bed. The fake you hasn't set off any red flags yet, acting normal. Too normal. He knew ‘you’ had a purpose for being here, one with malicious intent, though what exactly? One wouldn't simply come in here and replace his wife with a fake one just out of spite, unless they were a little cuckoo. Tossing aside to check the time, he presses the ‘on’ button on his phone. Weird, the time didn't show up. Maybe it's just a glitch in the system.

“Simon, Hey? Simon, wake up. Hurry, you need to get up.” A voice shakes, lightly nudging him in order to awake him. It's your voice, he can instantly sense its meekness. With one eye and another, they flutter open, still full of sleep in them. “Oh thank goodness, you're awake! But you seriously need to wake up, like right now.” You crooned, hoping he’d fully wake up to the sound of your voice. Groaning, Simon sat up, a few joints popping in the process. “What..? Yeah, I’m awake luv. Whad’ya need me for?” He questions groggily, eyes opening further once he gets a closer look at you. It's actually you, he can tell! The way your eyes meet his, connecting like a bee landing on a precious flower. The way your voice lilted to him like a mother bird nursing her hatchlings, it really was you.

“Wait–luv? You're here? Bloody hell, you actually are–Did you see the other gal who looked just like you? Tell me I’m not losing my shit please.” Then you shushed him, convinced he’ll continuously go on and on if you didn't. “Please listen to me closely, Simon.” You pause, noticing how his eyes bask in yours like it was long overdue. “You need to wake up, hurry.”

[sky-is-the-limit]

I saw someone on tiktok call König a big dumb bitch and if you're on here, I wanna be besties.

Also, the best and only good thing about MW3:

[python333]

need a ride? — python333

— — — —

synopsis ur walking home from school and theres a weirdo following you, luckily the 141 are there and they help u out!! :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap (for like 2 seconds, so sorry soap enjoyers), ghost, gaz.

word count 2.4k

warnings a creepy old man following [reader], [reader] intended to be in high school, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of y/n [your name].

note i have like 5 drafts and all of them are requests from people so im so sorry i havent been working on those!! i pinky prom once i get the motivation to write them--which probably sounds weird since i wrote this but trust me when i had to force myself to write this lmao--i will be posting them :3 i hope u all enjoy this fic, its all fluff and emotional hurt/comfort + protective-ish 141!!

You really wish you had listened to that first warning light. 

For a whole two days, your car had been in an auto repair shop, because you decided to ignore four whole warnings signs that something was seriously wrong with your car. Suspension and alignment issues, they’d told you yesterday, The wheels need to be realigned, the damaged suspension components need to be replaced, and the whole thing would take a day or two.

Fast forward to now, it’s 3:30 in the afternoon and you’ve been walking from school to your house for about ten minutes. The sun is close to being fully set—one of the worst parts of winter—and there’s been a guy following you for about five minutes now. 

He showed up once you’d exited the school premises and since then had been very determined to follow you home. You obviously did not want this to happen. But it didn’t matter if you walked faster, because he would only match your pace. If you tried to run, you assume, he’d just run after you, and seeing as he had far longer legs than you—you were pretty fucked if you decided to run. 

You would try to call an Uber, but your phone had been dead since fifth period. And you would try and catch a bus or something, but there were no bus stops near where you live, and even if there were, you weren’t carrying any cash or any cards on you. 

So, again, you’re pretty fucked. 

You look back at the man again, and turn your head right back around to look ahead of yourself once you see him looking right back at you, closer than you remember him being. Is he walking faster? Do I have to walk faster? 

You let out a shaky breath and keep walking, speeding up your walk just a bit and widening your strides, trying to think of what you should do. You didn’t want to just lead him to your house, that was just stupid. But you couldn’t just not go home—where else would you go? 

You continue to walk, speeding up a bit when you start to hear the man behind you speed up, and you try to control your panicked breathing. What are you supposed to do? You mentally curse yourself out for not carrying any self defense on your person, and continue your walking. 

Then suddenly, as if they were sent by God himself, you see four men come into view—one with a mohawk, one wearing some sort of skull mask-balaclava, one with sunglasses on even when the sun is almost set, and one with a boonie hat on—all walking together, all engaged in a casual conversation. 

You wonder for a moment if you should try and get closer to them to see if the guy would leave you alone. You hear the guy behind you speed up as you think and you take a deep breath before walking significantly faster to get closer to the men ahead of you. 

Am I really gonna trust a group that has a guy wearing a fucking skull mask in it? You hear the man behind you speed up as well and you speed up in retaliation, trying to think more about what to do, Do I just walk near them or do I straight up pretend I know them?

You think that the second option would be more likely to ward the weirdo following you away, but how would you even go about it? Do you just walk near them, or actually talk to them and join in on their conversation? 

You look behind you again and see the man significantly closer to you.

Deciding to take the risk, you rush up to them, swallowing down your panic when you hear the man behind you’s footsteps speed up to try and match your own speed. 

“Hey, guys!” All four of the guys turn around to look at you, their expressions all varying looks of confusion as you continue to talk, “Crazy seeing you guys here, it— it’s been so long.” 

You try to get as close to them as possible while not touching them and end up standing right by who you assume is the oldest. You try to subtly gesture to the man who was just following you, and the man you’re standing next to seems even more confused for a moment. 

“Uh, I don—” One of his friends cuts him off with a swat to the arm and when he turns his head to look at them in confusion, they nod over at the man whose just now catching up with you, and his mouth shapes into an ‘o’ before he looks back at you with a bit more understanding in his eyes. 

“Right, yeah, it has been really long,” He corrects himself, the other two of his friends catching on and stepping closer to you, almost creating a shield around you. He looks you over for a moment, before asking, “You just get out of school?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” You nod, grateful that they caught on, hoping your gratitude is somewhat apparent, “About ten minutes ago.”

“Nobody picked you up this time?” The older man asks, tilting his head to the side a bit. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man who’d been following you getting closer, but you force yourself to ignore him. 

“Yeah, no, everyone was kind of busy, so I have to walk home,” You respond, shoving your hands into the pocket of your hoodie to hide their shakiness as the other man stopped to stare at you two’s conversation. 

“Aw, well that sucks,” The other man frowns, before offering, “I was just heading back to my car, I could drive you back to your house? It’s on the way to the hotel we’re staying at, anyway.” 

You hesitate, trying to see if the man who’d been following you was still there, and much to your disappointment, he was. It was like he was just waiting for you to make a decision. 

Not knowing if you had any other choice, you nod affirmatively, “Yeah, sure. If that’s okay.” 

The older man gives you a small smile and pats your shoulder, “Of course it’s okay. I don’t want you just walking out here by yourself.”  

You almost sobbed in relief when you heard the creep that was following you scoff and finally walk back to wherever he came from after hearing that you accepted their offer of a ride. The older man takes his hand off of your shoulder and looks over, noticing the man has left as well, then looks back at you with a more concerned expression on his face. 

“Sorry, I almost gave you away at the beginning there,” He sincerely apologizes. 

“It’s fine, he probably didn’t even notice,” You put on a small smile and take a deep breath before adding on, “Thank you for that. I didn’t think he was ever gonna go away.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” The older man smiles at you, and tacks on, “I was serious about the ride, by the way. If you’re comfortable with that, of course.” 

You pause for a moment at that and think about if you trust them enough to have him drive you to your house and know your address and everything. 

“It’s my car, by the way,” The guy with the sunglasses butts in, “I’m the one paying for it. No clue why he said it was his.” 

“Because it was easier than saying it was yours,” The other guy sighs. 

“Actually—” The one with a mohawk interrupts, before immediately being cut off by the other two with a simple ‘shut up’. He rolls his eyes, and does indeed shut up. 

The one with a skull mask must notice your slight confusion, because he comments, “We’re renting a car for this week. Gaz is paying for it.” 

“Don’t call me Gaz in public,” Gaz grumbles, “That’s weird. Just call me Kyle.” 

“That sounds weirder,” The one with the skull mask argues, before the one with the almost-bucket hat sighs exasperatedly, the sound enough to make the two others shut up. 

“Uh…” All their attention is back on you as you talk, making you resist the urge to shrink back in on yourself, “I mean, if you guys are totally okay with it, then I’d be… okay with getting a ride home.” 

“Great!” Gaz smiles at you before dropping the smile and turning to the one with the skull mask, “You’re getting an Uber or something. I’m not driving you after that.” 

“Wh—” The one in the skull mask, despite you only being able to see his eyes, looks baffled, “I didn’t do anything, fuckin’ kick out Soap or something!” 

“Me? Why me?” The one with the mohawk—Soap, you assume—squawks, watching as Gaz actually thinks about it before nodding. 

“Good point. Soap, call an Uber so…” Gaz pauses before turning to you, “What’s your name, love?” 

You give him your name and he nods before turning back to Soap, “So that [y/n] can take your spot in the car.” 

“I—” Soap begins to argue, before sighing and rolling his eyes, reaching into his back pocket for his phone, “Fine. Whatever. Fuck all of ye.” 

“Sorrows, sorrows, prayers,” Gaz says dryly before turning back to you, “The car’s just another block up.” 

“Got it,” You nod, “So I should just follow you guys then, or…?”

“Yeah,” Gaz confirms, “Stay a little closer in case that guy decides to come back, or if anyone else tries to follow you, alright, love?” 

You nod again and take another step closer to the man with the skull mask and follow everyone else as they continue walking down to their car. They’re silent for the rest of the walk back, the man in the skull mask and the one with the almost-dad-going-fishing-hat keeping an eye out for any creeps while Gaz leads the way to the car. 

Once you’ve all reached the car, Gaz unlocks it and the man in the skull mask and the one in the almost-bass-pro-shops-hat immediately get into the back seats, letting you have shotgun. You mentally thank them for it and wordlessly get into the passenger’s seat, happy that it’s not too dirty in the car, closing the car door once you’re in. 

You buckle yourself in immediately and look right out the front window whilst Gaz gets in. This definitely won’t end up in me being kidnapped, You tell yourself, Totally not. This is the best idea I’ve ever had. Getting in a car with someone who goes by Gaz, someone who wears a mask from Spirit Halloween, and someone’s dad who somehow ended up here. Fucking perfect idea. I should do this more often.

Gaz gets in and buckles himself in, putting the car key into the ignition and twisting it, starting up the engine. You continue to stare out the window wordlessly as Gaz pulls out of the parking lot he’d been in and gets onto the road. 

“Could you give me the directions to get to your place?” He asks you once he’s stopped at a red light right outside of the parking lot. Silently, you nod. 

“Yeah, just, uh, keep going straight then take a left on Monroe,” You instruct him quietly. He nods and presses on the gas once the light turns green, continuing straight like you’d said. 

“You alright?” The bearded man in the back pipes up, making you twist your head back to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You assure him, half-lying, “Just a little tired and creeped out.” 

“Reasonable,” He hums, before adding on, “I’m John, by the way, and this is Simon.” 

Simon, the dude wearing the Spirit Halloween mask, perks up at the sound of his name, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. 

“Good to know,” You respond, wondering if you should say anything else before awkwardly turning back in your seat to continue staring out the window, watching as Gaz takes a left. 

“Take the next right, then just continue straight and then take a right on Balboa,” You tell him. He nods and takes the next right just as you told him to. 

It’s probably safe to assume they aren’t kidnapping you, You think, your breathing finally back to normal now that you know you’re probably not in any danger. 

“So what’s with the name ‘Gaz’?” You ask Gaz without thinking, tired of the silence in the car. Based on the way Gaz groans and John huffs out a laugh, you assume it’s somewhat of a long story. 

“It’s kind of a long story?” Bingo. “But in short, I just don’t talk too much, and someone decided to make a big deal out of that.” 

“I never made it a big deal!” John insists, all while Simon looks at him like he knows he’s lying, “It’s just a nickname!” 

You listen in on their bickering, grateful to finally have some noise in the car, and huff out a small, amused laugh at their antics. 

Soon enough, Gaz is turning right on Balboa, and he drives right into your neighborhood. 

“It’s the house right up there,” You point to it, and he looks at the house you pointed at and speeds up a bit to reach it faster. 

Once he’s at the house he thinks you pointed at, he asks, “This one, right?” and pulls into the driveway when you nod in confirmation. 

He parks the car in your driveway and turns off the engine, immediately unlocking the car and turning to you. 

“Well, I hope you have a good rest of your day,” He says politely, offering you a smile. 

“Thank you, you too,” You smile back, feeling a little bad for being so eager to get out of the car. Then again, you really just want to get inside of your house where it’s safe, so you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door. 

You carefully get out and close it behind you, fishing your keys out from your back pocket, walking up to the front door of your house and unlocking it, only hearing Gaz’s car pulling out of your driveway after you’ve successfully opened your front door. 

You yawn as you walk in, and close the door behind you, toeing off your shoes and leaving them by the front door.

You think, in the back of your head, about how weird it is that you didn’t get kidnapped despite that being the perfect opportunity for them to do so—but you don’t think about it too hard. You’re just grateful to have gotten home safe.

[bi-and-bewildered]

gifing every episode of 9-1-1: season 2, episode 9 “Hen Begins”

[howdoyousleep3]

My current fic idea, you ask? 😌

This is your Daddy—

He’s big and important and people fear him and you have no idea what he does but you don’t care because no other man has ever taken care of you the way he has and no other man will ever be given the chance.

This is the only man your Daddy trusts around you, his second in command—

He’s kind and sweet to you even when he’s mean to almost everyone else. You see him nearly as much as you see James, Steve being tasked with keeping your Daddy safe, and you have grown to rely on Steve’s presence for comfort even if he has witnessed you and your Daddy in scandalous predicaments over the years.

So, what are you supposed to do when Daddy is away and it’s the middle of the night and you’re all achy and want Daddy’s touch? Obviously, you call your Daddy.

And what does your Daddy do when he can’t stand to hear how much you’re hurting and how badly you need Daddy’s touch and he can’t be there to help?

Why, he gets his second in command to come help you while he stays on the phone and tells the both of you what to do because of course he’s left his most trusted man to be with you while he’s away.

Of course. 😌🤪🥵

[quillcraftconquer]

TW: Angst (?), Divorce, little sad lol, WIP

John Price is a good dad.

When he’s home, he’s present. He changes diapers. He feeds the baby. He helps out with bath and bedtime routines. He’s up at every cry he hears.

But that’s not why you left him.

He’s a great dad.

Except he didn’t know what size diaper your son wore, or that he preferred to be bounced, not rocked. He didn’t know what time to give him his last bottle, or when to lay him down. It had only been six months since you had your son, and John was gone for over half of it. You knew he had to be busy, but fuck, you gave up everything, and it felt like he gave up nothing. You quit your job. You left the SAS. You stayed home. You took care of the baby. It wasn’t necessarily because you wanted to, either, but someone had to, and you knew John wouldn’t.

It ate at you that you knew John wouldn’t.

“I need help.” You begged him, and when he offered to have his sister or his mother stop by more often, you knew it was a lost cause. You didn’t want them. You wanted John.

You remember when you reached your breaking point. You laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling as you listened to your baby cry for over an hour.

John said “I’ve got it.”.

When you finally burst through the nursery door, eyes blazing as you watched John attempt to rock him, again, you snatched your son from John’s arms. Your son was hungry, a cry only someone who spent countless hours with him would recognize. You gritted your teeth in anger when John tried to take him back.

“I’ve got him”

“Give him to me”

“I can do it”

Finally, you remember your anger boiling over, screaming at John through hot tears that he couldn’t even change a fucking diaper without asking you what size, or how much to feed him, or that he liked to be bounced and not rocked.

You remember the grief that filled John’s eyes when you pushed him out of the nursery, slamming the door in his face as he stuttered. You remember laying the divorce papers and your ring on the counter the next day, packing a bag to take you and the baby to his sisters until he left for deployment again.

You remember every feeling that rushed into your heart when he left, leaving the signed papers on the countertop.

When you moved out, he was on deployment. When you FaceTimed him for the baby, he always ended the call with “I love you.”. You could still see the flash of gold on his hand in the video.

You refused to say it back.

On the rare occasions he did come home, your house was the first stop he made. You would always meet him at the door with your son to exchange him, knowing if you let him any further, he would fill the spaces in your home with memories of him.

Until today.

[lemm-moxx]

Buncha random doodles of horror

[anghraine]

Fun fact: Imrahil of Dol Amroth is only ever described in LOTR as Denethor and Faramir's "kinsman", with no distinction ever made between how he's related to Denethor vs to Faramir. It's only later, when Faramir briefly thinks of his long-dead mother, that she is called "Finduilas of Amroth" and we can deduce that the family connection was likely between Denethor's wife and Imrahil, making him an in-law of Denethor but blood relative of Faramir. We're still not told exactly how Imrahil and Finduilas were related, though.

I always had the impression of a certain degree of tension between Imrahil and Denethor, and also of Imrahil being particularly concerned for Faramir, but his exact relationships with them are quite vague in the narrative. A lot of the names, dates, and family connections among the members of the house of Dol Amroth that we now accept as a matter of course are mainly from a separate document published in Peoples of Middle-earth that explains the most probable origin story for the house of Dol Amroth and has an attached family tree. IIRC the entire existence of Faramir and Éowyn's son Elboron is based on his inclusion in the Dol Amroth family tree in POME and he's never referenced in LOTR (and possibly not in anything else, actually?).

Tolkien definitely did imagine Imrahil and Finduilas as siblings regardless (e.g. I think he mentions it when observing that Denethor's natural beardlessness as an Elrosian Dúnadan would be reinforced in Boromir and Faramir by their additional Elvish heritage through Imrahil's sister), but he didn't actually say it in LOTR.

I do think it's important, though, because it's with this later information that Imrahil taking charge of Faramir's fallen body is conclusively revealed to not be simply a prince rescuing a vague "kinsman" of political/military importance, but specifically a man carrying his dead sister's last surviving child from a battlefield.

(No wonder he and Éomer bonded so much, honestly!)