#it felt apt to write them today lol

[loganslowdown4]

Roman: Wha- and just WHAT do you think you’re wearing?

Virgil: Uh, a hoodie and jeans… like always-

Roman: We’re going to a wedding!

Virgil: Yeah, and..?

Roman: It’s our wedding!!

[be-my-ally]

Big Bunny

Playboy Bunny Reader x Elvis on the Playboy jet request

it might be 3:30am here, i may have work today at 9 and i may have to proof read over this again tomorrow but still, here, have a bunny themed fic - very apt for a slightly (at least for where i am) belated good friday gift (for those who celebrate and a spring themed passover/ramadan/weekend gift for everyone else) !!

I genuinely did not expect to end up doing nearly as much research for this as I did - and therefore there ended up being significantly more back story than I anticipated for what I had planned to be a short smutty one shot lol so… here’s a p ridiculous 9.8k fill xx 

pairing: jet bunny reader x 1973-4 elvis (yes we are going that specific this time) - early big daddy era.

summary: freshly hired shy new playboy bunny reader and elvis get up to some fun away from the other passengers on Hugh Hefner's private plane, the aptly named 'Big Bunny'.

warnings: 18+, 18+, penetrative sex (p in v), oral (v receiving), lil bit of fingering, gratuitous use of the term 'bunny' and all accompanying euphemisms, elvis (as always in my writing) refers to himself as daddy.

wc: 9.8k

You nervously adjust your scarf around your neck; it’s windy, and you’re worried about your hair—that its carefully styled easy look might be ruined by the breeze. You roll from one foot to the other in anticipation; you can already feel the leather of the new, tall boot starting to rub behind your knee, and you’re hopeful for the chance to switch it out for your regular heels on board. The other girls are quiet, and that’s how you can tell that they too are nervous or excited—anticipatory perhaps. Usually, they would be chattering away right now—at least, that’s your experience from the last few flights you’d worked. But for some reason, the knowledge of this special guest had made them all fall silent, worrying their scarves or hair, and checking one another’s lipsticks, even more so than when Hugh was on board. Perhaps it was, like the Bunny bible said, because there was the knowledge that you were all representatives of the brand, and that was even more true for someone who wasn’t the owner of the brand, or perhaps it was simply because it wasn’t just any boring old investor but Elvis Presley flying on board today.

You’re all too young to remember much of him in his early prime or his dizzying launch to success, but you know that every girl in this line-up had watched the ’68 special, probably at a similar formative age to you, and had an experience; it had been impossible not to. You had been on the cusp of being 16 and were utterly gobsmacked and captivated by the television set as you watched him gyrate in a full black leather suit. Your mind had gone blank, and you couldn’t have told anyone what your father had said about it—you honestly couldn’t hear him because you were so shocked and excited by what you were seeing. Suddenly, you understood. You’d all discussed the marvel of the possibilities of the use of the satellites for the Aloha show only a few months ago, and you knew you weren’t the only bunny in the group who still found him almost alarmingly attractive. The concept, therefore, of being loaned out to him with the plane made you more than a little nervous. Another fragment of your anxiety for this flight also revolved around your new uniform—you weren’t comfortable in it yet; a teeny leatherette dress that somehow seemed far more revealing than your corset had ever seemed. Perhaps because it felt less like a costume in some way, perhaps because it simply was so unlike anything you would wear in day-to-day life—the over-the-knee boots were uncomfortable still too. 

It’s unclear how you’d become so attached to the little corset costume when you were still so new to the plane and to this life as a whole. You’d been well-trained and ready to use your newfound, extensive bar knowledge while working as a table bunny in the club in LA. Although you had hoped that you might be spotted and bumped up to a more senior position in a little while—that one day you might be able to work your way up to the mansion or maybe even be handpicked to be a playmate—it all seemed so glamorous, and the attention was so exciting. You’d never dreamed you would, after only working a month, be handpicked as a jet bunny. It had been one of the most exciting moments of your life. Since then, you’ve not been flying for very long, although the training had been intense and your first flight had only been two weeks ago. And it had been a pretty slow start, with just Hugh and a couple of colleagues on board. They had their favourites, and while you had been chatted to and flirted with—treated well—you had also been mostly ignored.

Elvis, as far as you could tell, didn’t have favourites; he hadn’t requested anyone in particular from the thirty or so girls on regular rotation for the jet, and it made you relieved to think that you were on a mostly even keel with the other girls. You’d gossiped about it as you packed your bags onto the plane before you’d all ended up where you were now: standing in a row waiting for him to pull up, having been given word that he was mere minutes away. When you looked down at the other girls, you couldn’t help but wonder why, as one man with a small entourage for the flight, he really needed the bunny equivalent of five stewardesses. But, you think to yourself, at least he did because, as the most junior of the bunch, you definitely would have been the first to be bumped from the flight.

It’s only another few minutes until his long, sleek, white Cadillac pulls up in front, another car close behind, and his long legs are immediately sliding out of the car, almost before its even come to a complete stop. He seems eager to be away. He’s arguing with someone and barely acknowledges any of you as he starts to storm up the stairs towards the jet entrance—clearly familiar with the plane already. It becomes pretty clear pretty quickly that he wasn’t arguing with someone physically with him but was instead recounting what had been discussed on the phone in the car—you could hear him swearing as he went inside, 

"I fuckin’ asked her to come out here with me, and now she’s being all cold, just then she was sayin’ she don’t wanna see me -" You can’t hear anything more, and you look down the row before Darla in front shrugs her shoulders and starts greeting the other couple of men still coming out of the car, and in the car behind, there were around a dozen guys in total, no women other than you five, which wasn’t unusual on the jet but wasn't entirely expected either.

A moment later, Elvis is hurrying back down the stairs, panting slightly as he comes. He arrives back in front of you, the last in line, with a series of apologies.

"Lord, where are my manners? I’m so sorry, girls. Hello, nice to meet ya; well, aren’t you all pretty little things?" You blush, and he catches your eye, winking at you as he presses a kiss to your cheek. He smiles at the rest of them, and Darla launches into her ‘Welcome to Big Bunny’ spiel as she directs him back up the way he just came. Your mind is racing as you follow them all up the stairs, and you’re more than a little distracted as you close the door and conduct the safety checks. Does that mean something? That he singled you out?

You weren’t meant to be his main assistant; of course, the main focus for today was keeping him happy, but you’d been specifically told that your purpose was to make sure the other passengers felt that they were getting similar attention. You didn’t have the experience, as Darla had told you, to understand how to deal with men like him. Those that think they’re special or that just because you’re wearing a bunny outfit they have some sort of claim on you, that you’re all the same and your centrefold is owed to them. And also, she’d flippantly added, you were still very inexperienced, and first and foremost she had to consider the brand. Now as you watch her take his arm up the stairs, you think you might be understanding her motivations a little more; her hips swaying more than they usually would. But you can’t say you blame her or that her other observations were wrong. You were inexperienced, both in flying and with men. But, as you’re locking the door shut and heading around to fetch towels and drinks before the pilots engage the engine, you can feel his eyes on you, and you think, I know what that means. 

It’s a pretty long flight for a domestic flight—four or five hours, depending on the route the pilot takes—so you have plenty of time to get to know the passengers and ensure they’re all well taken care of. You’ve heard rumours from some of the other girls that this kind of flight can often go one of two ways: either the men are rowdy, raucous, and handsy, or they’re quiet, appreciative, but distant. You had assumed Elvis and his entourage would be the former, but from the way he quickly gets himself situated and settled in the forward compartment, you’re inclined to believe it will be the latter. You can’t help but notice he’s sequestered himself in the back; a couple of the men are with him, but the rest are a series of seats away. It seems like even the inner circle has an inner circle.

Before serving the drinks, you have a chance to look over at him. Trying to be inconspicuous, you’re surprised at how large he is. You’ve never realised how tall he really is, but he’d remained a few inches taller than you even in your heels, and while the plane is more spacious and furnished less compactly than the average, it still serves to make him seem bigger in contrast to the environment. He seems to take up more space than his body needs too, like his presence needs allowance; he looks incapable of staying on one seat, and the way he spreads his legs, his knees falling open, it’s like he doesn’t even realise he might be taking up more than his fair share of space. 

You don’t realise how long you’ve been standing there, peering behind a partition wall, pretty much directly at his spread thighs. Until you move your eyes up, tracking up his body past his famously large belt to his open collared shirt, through which you can see tiny wisps of chest hair peeking through. You assess how his shirt is lying on him, clinging but well-tailored, and his trousers too, tight around his thighs and well-fitted on his waist but equally well-tailored, looking comfortable and well-fitted. Your eyes continue to roam over him until they come to rest on his face, and you realise he’s been watching you look at him. He’s smirking at you, clearly used to the attention but perhaps still flattered that he inspires it, and winks through his lavender-coloured glasses. You immediately duck back, taking a moment to gather yourself from the embarrassment of being caught out, before heading back out with the first tray of drinks.

It wasn’t your place to be, but you couldn’t help but be pleased when he showed himself not to be the type to start demanding wildly complicated cocktails—in fact, rolling his eyes when one of the men, Red, perhaps his name was, asked for a mai tai—and at his clear desire to remain sober, simply requesting a Pepsi. You take a breath, plastering your customer service smile on, determined to ignore any embarrassment, and swing around with the tray. Praying you don’t trip or spill anything in front of him.

Thankfully, you make it around without consequence, your thorough club training coming into play and keeping you steady even when there’s a mild bump as the plane engines start to roar. He grins up at you when you hand him the drink, and you can’t help but return it, beaming at him, forgetting your practised coquettish expression. You have to head back, sit down for a moment while the pilots announce your takeoff, and try not to grimace, knowing that your face can be seen from the compartment, at the feeling of taking off. You’re fine in the air, but that whooshing feeling of the plane jetting forward and up, the moment where you can feel the balance of the wings against the air as the engine battles its way up, still sends a wave of anxiety over you. Maggie brushes her hand over yours where it lies on the little armrest between the steward seats, and you thankfully grasp it, taking deep breaths. Once the pilot has announced you are officially flying and will be for approximately four more hours, you’re pleased you can finally stand up again and relax somewhat.

You’re not really needed for much for a little while, so you bounce about, chatting and keeping them company, talking with some of the other girls as you help to serve more drinks and food, and setting up the games tables when asked. Elvis has demanded the theatre be set up, so you arrange that, praying that when you return to the room he’ll have picked one of the latest cinematic releases and not, as you feared, one of the many adult releases available. You’re not sure you could keep a straight face if you had to watch him watch Deep Throat; it would just be too much to bear.

So you’ve avoided the lounge by staying in the forward compartment and helping the men there. Before you were sent on a mission to see if there was any peanut butter on board, a special request had apparently been made, but whether it had been complied with was yet to be seen. When Michelle, one of the more senior girls, suddenly appeared beside you, grabbing your arm and speaking in a hurried, hushed tone, she told you that you really ought to change. You panic for a second that something was wrong with your dress, but she’s quick to assure you that it was nothing like that. But Elvis had taken her aside and mentioned that although he "love[s] your yittle skirts, like yer spies or somethin’," he was "missin’ them little bunny outfits" and had left that with her. He hadn’t specifically requested anyone should change, but she’d successfully read between the lines of the very obvious hint and was, therefore, suggesting that you, Daisy, and Maggie change into your bunny corsets. You’d all planned for this possibility, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but you were still slightly surprised. You’d not been given the impression that Elvis had been that bothered by the theme of the plane, of you, but rather was utilising the plane for the luxury and convenience of the travelling experience. But if he was requesting your bunny outfits, clearly he was more into it than you thought.

It’s not long after that you do as requested and emerge from the powder room in your little patented corset teddy, the black silk highlighting your complexion and the little collar and bow emphasising your neckline. You were slightly annoyed that despite your careful packing, your little cottontail puff had been flattened, and so you’d had to spend way too long fluffing it to bring it back to life. This also meant that you were the last to emerge, and there was no way you could deny noticing that Elvis himself was sitting back in the forward compartment, turned so that he was practically facing the powder room door, watching you exit with a satisfied smirk on his face. You try to ignore him, listening to the conversations happening around you and trying to anticipate everyone’s needs. In your absence, more substantial snacks have been served, and you can see the remnants of some sort of peanut butter sandwich situation dotted around the room, so clearly that had been found too. There’s now a discussion happening about whether you should turn on the lights in the disco room or wait a little while to eat first. Eventually, it’s decided a proper meal is imperative at some point in the flight, but that right now? They wanted music.

So you all move down the plane. You end up walking directly behind Elvis, and when the plane bumps up and down briefly in the tiniest spot of turbulence, you trip into his back. You right yourself with help from one of his arms, apologising, but you’re flustered. It’s only worse when he turns to you.

"No need to be sorry, doll; you can fall into my arms whenever you like." It was one thing to imagine how he felt, but to be able to remember the feel of him, even from behind, even from just a brief moment of contact, was a heady feeling. Especially when he felt just as you’d imagined he would—soft but firm and broad. So broad. Walking behind him like this also made you nervous for another reason: it made you feel as if your movement down towards the intimate bedroom quarters at the end might be signalling something. The cosiness of the rooms between -- the disco and the lounge, perhaps reflective of the internal struggle you’re facing; the disco the butterflies in your belly.

You know you won’t be able to prevent meeting his eye again. The thought worries you; you’ve been around attractive men before, of course, but never one that, just by looking at him once, has made you feel like you would risk giving up everything for a few hours of fun. Lose everything you have simply for the pleasure of touching him. Maybe this was what Darla was concerned about; you can see her glance over to you every now and again, checking in, and you can tell she’s a little bothered by something.

Once you’re in the disco, the girls and you are well-practised at setting it all up, making sure there are enough tracks ready to be played and that there was easy access to free-flowing drinks and bar snacks. You’re also all very used to essentially having to start the dancing yourselves, having to encourage the others to join in despite their enthusiasm in suggesting the disco. You hang back slightly, holding a tray, when Elvis lightly grasps your elbow. You jump, having not seen him come to your side, and look questioningly at him.

"Dance for me, baby?" You’re not a stripper or a go-go dancer or anything like that, but it’s not a request that’s unheard of in the clubs. And you enjoy it; you wouldn’t be in the job if you didn’t get a slight thrill from being looked at, watched, wanted. So it’s easy to agree, especially when you’ve always found it hard to ignore a man when he adds a pet name, and besides, you want to. So you do. Elvis sits himself down, and a few of the men join in, and you and Maggie and Daisy all dance around them. You prance and shimmy, and soon most of the passengers onboard are dancing around to the music that plays from the surround system.

The group cheered and laughed when Burning Love was played on the 8-track, and Elvis sang along, laughing and joking when he missed one of the high notes ("God almighty, that’s high"). You notice that after a while Elvis has disappeared back into the living area and looks like he might be close to nodding off; sat there with his head back. You suppose he must be tired—you don’t know what he was doing prior to the flight this afternoon, but you do know he was coming off of the back of a week straight of shows and heading towards another one. You again know it’s not your place, and yet you still can’t help feeling like you ought to check on him.

You head over, leaning over, and crouching in the way you’re told to, almost in a bunny dip. He blinks up at you when you touch his shoulder.

"Lord, you’re a vision." You’re taken aback and can’t do much more than crouch there, stuck in place. "Talk with me, honey?" He pats your arm, and you nod, standing upright again and looking for a place to perch. There’s nowhere for you to sit down, or perch, few seats as there were in this living area, attached to the disco, and with the other men and girls also collapsing around you, you awkwardly look around for a moment before Elvis’ hand comes out and wraps around your thigh, pulling you down onto his lap.

"Oh!"  You gasp, "Oh, I—I, uh, don’t think you’re meant to touch me, sir."

"Bunny, for the next three hours, I own you." He chuckles but removes his hands from your legs, although he makes no attempt to shift you from his lap, instead sitting further back, causing you to fall more securely onto his lap. You avoid what is sure to be judging looks from the other girls as they hand him drinks and chat with the other boys on board. You’re wrong about them watching you and judging you; of course, all the other girls are distracted, and even when they do glance over, it’s mostly to check that you, as the new girl, are still doing okay. Despite any jealousy they may be feeling about the attention he’s giving you, they still know how shocking and abrupt all of this can suddenly feel when you’re being confronted with men like him.

He’s surprised when you look shy, and you know the rumours abound—about how you’re all able to make extra cash—the private parties for the number one keyholders. But it’s not something you’re forced into just by virtue of being a bunny, and it’s not something you’ve been interested in finding out more about. Still, being perched on his firm lap, the seams of his suit rubbing against your silk tights, you can’t help but wish that you had asked more about it; found out if there were expectations. You wouldn’t want to let him down. You awkwardly sit there a moment before opening your mouth, 

“So, uh, what did you wanna talk about?” He smiles, 

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself honey.” So you do, giving him the basic information of your life, while he hmms and uh-huhs in all the right moments to show he’s listening to you. You’re starting to run out of steam and you’re about to ask him to tell you something when you’re distracted by him reaching to the side of you, jostling you a little. 

He lights a cigar, and you can feel the heat of the tip. You shift the tiniest bit; you don’t know why it’s getting you so hot. You’re suddenly grateful for the subtle but multiple layers you’re wearing. Thankful for the fact that you’ve never listened to the few girls who swear it makes more sense not to bother with panties; you’d never been convinced that it wasn’t asking for trouble—something was sure to slip or become exposed. But you also always wore a double layer of pantyhose. He grunts the tiniest bit as you bump back into his stomach, and when you pause for a moment, you can feel a dampness growing between your legs. Through all the layers, he can’t feel it, thank God, but he does murmur to you: "Lord, are you a hot little Bunny." He strokes the small of your back, and you somehow know he doesn’t just mean it in the attractive sense, but that he can feel your heat.

You wriggle back against him, thinking, - don’t waste your chance, girl; don’t do it; you may as well go for it. All of your sense of propriety is lost, and you’re suddenly completely ignorant of the happenings around you. You can feel where the rubber around the edge of the leg bands of the teddy is starting to roll, being unable to stay put on the slippery tights and causing it to fall further away from your thighs riding up. You know he can feel it too, as close as you are. And while you’re still theoretically clothed, you can feel his trouser leg better on your thigh after it rolled up; he said you were hot, but he’s burning, it feels like. You push back onto him, feeling his tummy nudge against you, and under your tail, what felt like a growing erection. You don’t know what’s come over you, where this sexual confidence, this determination, this lack of self-consciousness, has come from. You wonder if it could just be the adrenaline of being so close, but you still go with it, and you nudge your ass back to him, grinding a little.

"Don’t baby," he pushes you forward a little, with his one free hand, blowing smoke past the side of your face, and you giggle, putting on a faux deep voice.

"Don’t procrastinate; don’t articulate…" You can’t even get the words out of your mouth you’re giggling so hard, wiggling in his lap, and it sets him off too, shaking his head and murmuring against your ear.

"Lord save me, girlie, you’re trouble, ain’t ya?" He holds you still. You try, but you’re practically incoherent because you’re laughing so hard.

"If you're lookin' for..." But your laughter cuts off when he hooks a finger in the corset and strokes it down your inner thigh—somewhere that you would have slapped anyone else and whispers, 

"You came to the right place." You gasp, head going back, and his own tucking into your shoulder - he holds out the cigar, and, despite having barely lit it, rests it in the tray to the side of you so that he can use both hands to grip your waist. It’s ridiculously cheesy, and you don’t want to think about how many times and with how many girls he might have used similar lines, or how easy it must be for him.

"You want me, Bunny?" You still don’t know if you should be playing hard to get or if you should just give in to the inevitability of it all. "Can feel your little tail pressin’ into me - little puffy thing. Twitching ‘gainst me;" You wrinkle your nose cutely at his words, and he smiles into your neck: "Even a little twitchin’ bunny nose!" he presses a finger to it, and the strokes down to your lips. He rests it there for a second, "Do you wanna do this, bun?" You decide you may as well give in and nod—there's no point trying to play it cool when you’re sitting on his lap. You open your mouth, trying to catch his finger in your teeth as he fools around with you. He pulls you around, so one of your bent knees is now pressed against him and your other is resting on the seat, facing him. You shiver, loving how his sturdy hands manhandle you. You lean forward, as if to kiss him, when he stills you, 

"Baby, we’re surrounded." You glance up, confused expression on your face, and a question in your eyes: Why would it matter? They all know the score. He shakes his head. "It’s your job isn’t it? You can’t - we shouldn’t?" You shrug your shoulders, he’s technically right and mere minutes ago you’d been worried about it yourself, but... It’s also not completely true to say that you would be discouraged from doing this with him.

"Say doll, how’d’ya - how’d’ya feel about joinin’ me?" Your heart flips, you glance around, but it appears the other girls are either preoccupied or purposefully avoiding looking at you. Plausible deniability. You’re frozen, and he stands up, pushing off of his lap, and leaves without looking back at you, only stopping at the door to the bedroom to call back,

"You coming or what?" So sure that you’ll follow him in. You glance around, and only Darla catches your eye. You’re wide-eyed and panicked at being caught, but she looks at you for a moment before nodding slightly and winking as she turns away. Somehow, it untangles the ball of anxiety that you didn’t realise was holding you so tense. Seconds later, you stand up, clearing the empty glasses from the tables around you, when Michelle swoops in, taking them out of your hands and nudging you with her hip towards the bedroom. Right then. You follow where Elvis had gone only a minute or so ago, and you cross past the little faux wood door into the bedroom. You look around but find that he’s already in the bathroom—perhaps so certain that you would follow that he didn’t even need to check that you had come in.

You sit anxiously on the big, round, fur-covered bed as you wait for him to reappear. You cross your legs before immediately uncrossing them and standing up—wondering if it was too presumptuous to be sitting there waiting for him. A moment later, leaning against the wall, you change your mind, deciding to sit on the edge again. It really did make the most sense. And while you didn’t want to make it seem like you were assuming something, you doubted he’d invited you back here to play checkers. He comes out and watches you for a brief second before coming over to stand in front of you, mere inches apart, so you’re forced to crane your neck up to look at him.

You’re a little skittish, and he can tell by the way you tremble when his hand comes up to touch your shoulder; he leans forward as if to kiss you, and you pull back. He pauses. 

"What’s the matter, little Bunny? Why are’ya so twitchy now?" He doesn’t want to force himself, but he also can tell you want him, even before you willingly followed him here. He also knows that you must know the score—you can’t be that innocent in your role—and you must understand what he’s asking of you.

"I’m, I’m just -- it’s just a little surreal, you’re Elvis Presley. I don’t know how to, I've never been with anyone famous." He smiles, thankful that he hadn’t misread the situation — god forbid what the newspapers would have said about that if it had leaked: Elvis forces himself onto Playboy Bunny, BANNED from Hefner’s jet. It doesn’t bear thinking about. So he does the one thing he knows he can do well — can do so well that most women forget their worries and tilts your chin up to kiss you. He brackets your body with his thighs and cups your face in both hands. He’s masterful at it, knowing all the right moves,  just the right amount of tongue forced into you, mapping your mouth. His lips are so soft, and his little nibbling bites on your lower lip hurt just the right amount for you to be totally consumed by his actions. He nudges you to move further up when you break apart, and you shimmy up a little, your legs coming up so that only your ankles are not on the bed. He presses one knee between your legs, balancing so he can move forward enough to kiss your cheek, his own high cheekbones rubbing against your face, and whisper, 

"I’m just a man, hon, just like any other — don’t, don’t worry ‘bout it." He leans over and you’re forced onto your back, his hand catching you and lowering you down gently onto the fur coverlet. You lean up to kiss the exposed part of his neck, your nose nudging against his high collar. 

"I, uh, god, I haven’t been around that many men in general — not like this, so that doesn’t actually make me feel a whole lot better. " You respond quietly. He pauses where his hand had been starting to fiddle with the zipper on the back of your corset. Pulling himself up to look you in the eyes. 

"You, have - you have been with a man though? Right Doll?" You nod, frantically, you might be nervous but god don’t let him stop now. 

"Yes - yes, just, just only the one." He moans on top of you, clearly liking the answer. You feel the zipper come down, and your chest is finally allowed to expand properly again, free from the restrictive boning. You suddenly panic, holding the garment close to your chest as you force him back a little. He rolls sideways, onto his elbow, to watch you; 

"What’sthe matter baby?" He looks concerned as you force yourself up into a sitting position, 

"Uh, could you - could you just close your eyes or something while I take this off?" He frowns, 

"Well, sure, but… I don’t think you need to worry ‘bout modesty right now." You smile nervously back, trying for a blasé air — 

"No, no, I know it’s just — it would just make me feel better." He looks at you, clutching the corset teddy to your chest. He nods, starting to close his eyes and you let out a sigh of relief, immediately standing up and wriggling out of it. You’re bent over, folding the fabric over itself when he starts to talk, 

"I ain’t got a problem making you comfortable, babe, but if it’s about them little cottontails stuffed down your top I already know." You pause. Whirling around to see him peeking through his lashes at you. You forget to be shy, stood there topless, braless in nothing but your pantyhose and heels and you put your hands on your hips. 

"How on earth —“ He laughs at you, opening his eyes properly, 

"I’m not new to this game sweetheart." You can tell he’s teasing, but now he’s made you slightly worried that it's always been obvious thatyou weren’t quite as endowed as you were claiming, 

"How’d you tell though?" 

"You’re not the first girl meeting me with something stuffed down their shirt, darling, you just, sometimes you can just tell— I don’t know what you’d be stressin’ over though," He takes a moment to very obviously look you over, "they’re some pretty little tits." You’re pleased, but annoyed that he’s still decided to use the term little. 

"Well - isn’t that why! Little!" He laughs at your indignation, reaching a hand out to pull you back to him, but he can barely speak through his giggles.

"No, no, no I didn’t mean it like that." You frown, but his amusement is infectious and you find yourself also giggling - "See, see, there’s a good girl - no reason to be sore about it, much more than what you’ve got’sa waste anyway mama, you’ll see." 

He puts you back where he wanted you to start with - on your back, as leans over you. The feeling of him still being fully clothed against your chest, your near nakedness, makes you tremble - the soft silk of his shirt rubbing against your nipples. You can smell him, the slight musk of the day masked by cologne - perhaps reapplied in the bathroom a moment ago. His hair is looser than you expected it to be and it’s already starting to flop forward, it unnerves you slightly because it allows you to somehow forget who it is lying over you - the loss of that trademark making you forget that he’s practically a patented figure at this point. Until you catch sight of his blue eyes or his little curled lip and you’re reminded all over again. He strokes up from your waist to your neck and then back down, gentle fingertips dancing over your skin. He leans down to kiss you and your arm winds around his neck, pulling him closer. You’ve never felt a hunger like this. Desire like this before. You’re suddenly desperate to be closer, forgetting to play it cool you’re tugging at his shirt, 

"C’mon get this off!" He laughs at you again, but stands up, ignoring your request. You lie there on your back looking up at him as he assesses you. You can’t help but puff your chest out a little and curve your back. Then he bends to grasp your left ankle, slipping your heel off. You yelp at the unexpectedly quick motion but the relief is almost immediate. He grabs your other ankle to take the other heel off, flinging it against the wall of the plane. Then his hands are immediately going to your black tights, he tries to pull them from the ankle but quickly realises that’s getting him nowhere, unable to get a proper purchase on the slippy material. So he works his way up to the waistband, grasping it and tugging it down. His finger catches by your knee, the rough bitten edge of his nail snagging and you hear the tell-tale ripping sound of them laddering, He laughs as you groan, 

"Oh, no! Those were my last good pair; they cost me nearly seven dollars!" It only makes him laugh harder as he tears them off of you. 

"Tell you what, honey, I’ll make sure you have ten new pairs by the time we land." He throws them somewhere near the rest of your clothes and turns his attention back to your stomach, only to be surprised when he’s met with another pair of pantyhose — this time in a sheer nude. 

"Lordy! How many layers’is there?" You laugh at him, as he begins the process of rolling them down too — lifting your hips to allow them to come down easier than last time; it’s not that you don’t believe he would replace them, but just in case you’d prefer not to rip these too. 

"Not meant to be being touched am I, Mr Presley?" It’s like, as he exposes more of your skin, he can’t help himself from pausing — the tights stay rolled around your knees to allow him to kiss your thighs, or the patch of skin between your belly button and your panties. You lift your leg, allowing him to roll down the last of the hosiery. He rubs over the arch of your foot and you moan at the relief — you may be getting used to the heels now but it didn’t mean that your feet didn’t still ache as soon as they came off. He gives the same attention to the other foot, rubbing firmly, before physically pushing you up the bed. 

"Oh darling, call me Elvis." He strokes up your calves, before he stops again at your feet, "God, has anyone ever told you you’ve got real pretty sooties, Lordy these little toes are gorgeous." You wiggle them at him, you’ve never given much thought to your feet other than deciding what colour to paint your nails. He pulls your foot towards him, lifting your leg up. He kisses along the ball of it, before taking your big toe into his mouth. 

You had never, ever, been turned on by the thought of someone playing, or sucking your feet, but suddenly it’s like electricity zapping up your legs to your tummy and core — you can feel yourself growing damp just from his gentle tongue lapping around your toes and you can’t help little moans falling from your mouth. You’re normally ticklish but this time the sensation forms little jolts through your tummy, making it flip slightly, and butterflies form. He lets go with a little pop, his lips forming the perfect round little ‘O’ of suction and the warm wet heat is suddenly released, causing the air to feel colder and your feet more sensitive than ever before. When you look at him standing there, holding your ankle, caressing your calve you have a sudden flash of what it must be like to be a man — and suddenly you think you can understand why men love being sucked so much. The sight of him, his lips red, your toes wet, is overwhelmingly erotic. 

He keeps going - right up your foot, before he holds your leg up, kissing up it before he put his knees on the bed again, lowering your limb to allow him to kneel over you. He places little kisses up your thighs, and you can feel his chin rubbing against your stomach as he kisses his way up there, he uses one elbow to lean on, keeping himself somewhat horizontal, but his other hand is following his lips. 

"Time to prove it to you, little bun-bun." He whispers against your sternum, before turning his head, licking a line across your breast and capturing your nipple in his mouth. His hand reaches to squeeze your other, pinching the nipple until it hardens into a little nub. He pulls off of where he’s been sucking and blows onto you. The cool air over your wet nipple sends a jolt straight to your pussy — it’s clearly an education for you tonight since you’d also never before known how sensitive your chest really was. He laps at the other side, giving it a similar treatment, palming the breast around it. While you gasp and wiggle underneath him you can feel his length straining in his trousers, and the slight feel of his lowly buttoned shirt, allowing you to feel a slither of the hairs on his chest and tummy is enough to send your arousal into overdrive. You start tugging at his top and trying to feel around his waist to undo one of the belts that had become synonymous with his image, far more insistently than before. Demanding he takes it off, even as the words fail to make it out of your mouth alongside the moans and gasps caused by his ministrations. He pulls back, planting one last kiss on the side of your chest and laughs at you when you beg. 

"Please, gotta see you, wanna see all of you - please Elvis, dreamed about this, gotta see it." But still, he complies with your request, sitting himself up to strip off his shirt; unbuttoning the last few buttons and then standing to kick off his trousers, pulling off his belt. You stare at him. Incapable of doing anything else. He’s carrying more weight than before, especially around his middle, although he’s still clearly a man of generally slim build, padded tummy over muscle. But regardless of his weight, or maybe because of it, he’s still beautiful. You reach for him when he lies back down, stroking the hair on his head - the hair that ensures you recognise that this is no longer the slicked-back hair of his Hollywood days and that he’s no longer a boy in anyway but a man and you need only look at his chest to remind you of that. The few sparse hairs that used to be there have been joined by a collection covering his chest and stomach in a soft carpet. 

His hands move back down the sides of your body and he whispers to you, "Lift up baby," as you would while trying to undress a child to pull your panties down and off of you — throwing them god-knows-where also. You wriggle, nervous and self-conscious as he stares at you. He’s flushed pink down his face and chest, and he looks you over, assessing. He nods, clearly satisfied and smiles when you breathe a sigh of relief. You bring a hand down, and he follows with his own, going to stroke you. 

"God Bunny, you’re dripping." And it’s true, your inner thighs were already sticky with your own slick and you’re genuinely not sure you’ve ever felt this wet without having even touched yourself. He brushes over you lightly, circling your clit, before going to press a single finger into you. Your own hand rests on top of his, ostensibly as if you were guiding him, but really being dragged by him. You let out a moan as he pulls your hand down to join his, directing and tugging your finger to join his, pulling them both out and pushing them back in together as if your two hands made one. It feels wild, it’s so out there, your soft hand intertwined with his rougher fingers pressed against one another as they delve into your most intimate place. 

You’re not unused to the sensation in general but his singular finger alone was similar to two of your own and so you can feel a slight burn at your entrance, a barely-there sting that cuts through the pleasure. Like a pinch of salt atop a cookie, it only enhances the flavour — the feel andyourhips circle around as his thumb finds its way up to rub at your clit.

"Gotta make sure you’re nice and loose for me huh baby, just like a new set’a wheels gotta grease you up." You moan at his words, the objectification for some reason really doing something for you. He uses his other fingers to stroke gently at you and the tickling sensation is almost enough to tip you over the edge. He seems to hold you there for a miraculously long time, and you realise you probably ought to be trying to return the favour so you reach down to tug at his hard cock. It’s a different feel than what you were used to, you’d never been around an uncut penis before, and you didn’t really know what to do with it other than pretend that it was exactly the same as the two others you’d touched. He winces slightly when you roll your palm over before his foreskin has retracted back causing you to roll the skin around, pinching him as you try. He bats your hand out of the way, pumping himself. You take note and recreate his actions as best you can, and you know you’ve hit the sweet spot when his own hips jerk and his hand tightens around your wrist. He pulls his fingers out from you, dragging your hand back with him and flings your arm away, before going back down with three fingers, he prods them at your entrance, testing the boundary before slowly sinking them in. You whine at him, panting, 

"Please, god, Elvis, you gotta, I’m ready for you, I swear I’m ready for you," he pulls his fingers out, and pushes your hand away from his cock, rolling you firmly onto your back and kneeling himself up again. 

"Ok, Ok, Bunny, ok, I hear ya, I can feel you’re ready for me, just, just didn’t wanna hurt you, just wanna make you feel good little Bunny." He pulls your hips towards him and lines himself up. 

He thrusts into you, pulling you onto him and you whine as you feel his sticky head stretching you open. Despite your claims of being ready for him it has been a while. His stomach is resting on yours, his tummy pressing down on you. It’s almost like he’s smothering you, he’s entirely enveloping you. His hands are holding your waist, bracketing you to him. If it were anyone else you think you might find it claustrophobic, so close together that your breath is mingling, you can see his pores, feel his belly button. But for some reason it just makes you want even more of him, getting as close as humanely possible, desperate for however much you can get. His taste, his smell, his everything. 

"Oh god," as he pushes in further, devastatingly slowly, "Tight as a fucking virgin aren’t ya… you sure you haven’t still got your cherry? Sure I’m not about to - ah - pop it ‘gain?" You moan, trying to relax your breathing from its quickened state as you adjust to him inside you. He moves one of his hands to touch you, feeling where you’re spread open and up to press your clit, and you buck up involuntarily at the contact, forcing a few more inches of him in. He groans at the unexpected tight pressure and heat. You clutch at his shoulders as he responds with his thumb speeding up on you. He drives into you, and you clench down as you start to feel his fingers doing their job, along with his cock jabbing against your internal walls. You don’t recognise the noises coming out of your mouth, they’re not the practised noises that you might expect from a woman of your occupation, but the very real moans and groans from a woman surprised at how this could feel.

He’s breathing heavily, and you can see the sweat starting to form, but he keeps the pace — clearly, his near-constant performances have maintained his stamina. A bead of it starts to form on his brow and you watch it drip, slowly, down his cheek towards the little patch of sideburns. You suddenly yearn to taste it, it’s sure to be salty, and maybe a little sweet, but his musky smell is already filling your nostrils and you can’t help but want to lick it. You try to distract yourself, don’t want to embarrass yourself like that, how unbecoming that would be. You try to look at a point beyond his shoulders, but you fail when you feel his hot, large, heavy, hand on you - cupping your cheek and drawing your eyes back to his face. 

"Where ya going little Bunny?" He huffs, "Stay with me." He’s pleading with you and it immediately catches your attention. You nod, frantically, as his hips rock back and forth into you. He grips your waist and hips tight and leans closer, pausing in his rutting to press into you, deep, and catching your mouth with his. When he pulls off of you, he goes to kiss the side of your face, curving over himself to kiss your neck and you can see another drip of swear forming. It’s too much to take and you reach with your hands, both of them cupping his head, pulling him back up to your eye level from your shoulder. He looks up slightly confused at why you’ve stopped him but his eyes quickly roll closed as you lean forward, 

"Wanna taste you, let me taste you daddy." He nods, and you hold his head in place, kissing the side of his mouth, before licking his cheek, little kitten licks before a broader stripe up to his temples, where the sweat is forming. You were right; it’s sweet and salty, manly. His hips stutter a little and you can feel him twitch inside you, your own walls fluttering and clenching a little in response to his feel and taste. He pulls back a few inches, about to thrust back into you but you put a hand on his chest. He frowns down at you, disappointed that you were blocking his movements. 

"Let me, let me — can I, wanna ride you." His eyes roll back and his bitten, pouty, lips fall open in pleasure as he doesn’t say anything but starts to remove himself from you. When his cock pops out, bobbing between you he rubs it against your folds, cockhead bumping your clit. You grind against him, before moaning at the loss as he sits himself at the head of the bed, sliding down to be in a semi-reclining position. 

"C’mon then doll, have at it." He gestures with both hands at his crotch. "Hippity hop little Bun." You grin, you don’t normally love the bunny jokes and comments — you’re not ashamed of your job and in fact, you’re normally quite proud of your career, but you do like to keep it separate from your private life; it’s still your work, and you’re more than just a playboy bunny. But coming from him? If Elvis wants to call you Bunny, he can call you a bunny — hell you’d hop about the room, eating a carrot, until he was satisfied if he asked. 

You sink down onto him, your slick and his precum have lubricated your entrance enough by now to make it far easier than his first push into you, although your mouth still falls open at the feel of the stretch. You moan at the feel of the different angles, hitting different parts of your walls as you bottom out before rising back up, only to rock yourself back down again. You try to pay attention to his face, work out what feels the best for him but honestly you’re too distracted trying to get the angle right for yourself. He seems content, though, to let you do the work, offering you a near-constant stream of praise; 

"Uh-huh that’s it, good girl, good fucking girl.” You circle your hips in response, grinding down and he’s moaning at you, telling you that you’re "treating’ me so nice, oh god, oh yes." You bounce on him until your thighs are shaking and you’re so close, but you just need a little more something. You’re about to say so, and you’re reaching down one of your hands that had been on his shoulders to touch yourself when he says, 

"It alright bunny if Daddy takes over again now?" You feel yourself clench, his slightly condescending tone for some reason heightening your arousal even further, and you nod rapidly. He lifts you off of him, his forearms flexing, and manhandles you into turning around - pushing you down onto all fours. Your arms are a little shaky and you lean down onto your elbows to compensate.  

"Arch your back baby, that’s it." You comply with his request, feeling a little like a whore and how strange it was to feel, as fucked open as you were, the air running past your pussy. He grips your hips and lines up again, one hand staying around your hipbone while the other strayed around to hold you close to him, palm splayed across your lower stomach as he pushes into you again. 

He slides in, the stretch lessening each time — you can still feel him, of course, but it’s less of a burning sensation and more of a gentle pull now. He’s constantly talking — praising you, telling you you’re "so goddamn fucking pretty" that "you were born to take this," and that you were "such a good girl." You’re not used to the noises he pulls from you, and you probably should be more concerned about how thin the walls are - he reminds you a few times that you "gotta be quieter baby, gotta quiet down, be a quiet little Bunny for me", but when his balls are slapping against you, his tummy knocking into you, and his cock is stretching your hole you lose the ability to stay quiet. 

A stream of swears and words of approval coming from your own mouth, "C’mon, please Daddy, please, that’s it, that’s it, give it to me Daddy." 

He reaches around, stroking you and rolling his fingers over the little silky soft patch between his cock and your clit, feeling around where you’re joined. It’s filthy - and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and when he reaches down with a hand - rubbing his fingers over you just so you’re reminded that you’re not the second person he’s ever fucked. He seems to know all the right moves to get you where he wants you, your head turned against the bed, gasping. You’re knocked momentarily silent when he pulls out, rubbing his cock up and down your folds, jabbing it against your clit before he presses a hand agaisnt your back, forcing your ass up higher and presses back inside you. This time he’s aiming, going deeper than his shallower thrusts before, and he knows he’s aimed true when you wail as he hits the bumpy little spot inside you. He breathes a laugh like your reaction is amusing to him — perhaps because of the sheer shock in your tone and he continues at the same pace. Hitting that same spot and focusing his fingers once again on your clit. 

He circles his middle finger and thumb around, moving closer and closer before eventually, finally, brushing directly over it. It’s enough to make you cry out, thrashing around a little, legs jerking, as you come — your hole clenching around him causing him to groan in time with you. Your body goes slack against him, as he continues to pummel into you, although he does slow down, letting you ride the waves of your orgasm back down. He shifts slightly, pulling you up, and holding you by his grip on your waist and pussy as he kisses the sweat on your collarbone. Before abruptly shoving you back down onto the bed. Your face rubs against the fur as your arms give way, and you grab fistfuls to hold onto as he grips your hips, so tight you’re bound to bruise,  and starts to pound away at you. You’re oversensitive and his rapid pace is a little uncomfortable, but as he starts to swear, and you can feel him drawing near he reaches down with his left hand, and nudges your folds open again. He rubs your clit at a pace that would normally have made you shove the guy off of you, so little attention given elsewhere, but that matches his own hips perfectly and is apparently just the right amount of abrasion to send you careening to the edge again. You convulse on his cock at almost the exact same moment you can feel him rapidly pulling out, to shoot his own cum across your ass and back. 

"Now you got your own little white tail Bunny." He doesn’t let you rest. As soon as he’s stopped spurting he’s pushing you over, rolling you onto your back and diving between your legs. He tongues your sloppy, open, hole and he licks his way up and down your folds, before tongue-fucking into you. His fingers coming up to replace his tongue, scissoring into you, so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on that little nub and sending your oversensitive self straight through to a third orgasm. You scream, unable to remain quiet any longer, clutching at his hair and holding him tight to you as you writhe against his mouth. He licks you out like a man possessed, like he’s been told it’s essential for the good of humanity, and you’ve never had someone do this to you before; you had no idea this was how this felt, but to have someone so dedicated to the task was a feeling almost as heady as the orgasm itself.

He flops back, resting his head back onto your inner thigh, and you pat gently at his head, still breathless and unable to speak as you blink away black spots in your vision. He’s breathing heavily and you can feel his sweaty forehead on your fingertips. You can’t believe it’s his soft, sweaty hair in your hands. God, you wished this plane would never land. He sits up, and looks down at you, patting at your pussy lightly, as you would a pet, affectionately. You look over at your clothes, wondering if you’ll even be able to contain your puffy folds in the tiny gusset of the corset teddy when he distracts you by leaning down and pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"If it’s alright with you, darling, I think I might request you on my crew every time I fly."

[marciabrady]

Idk if it's a generation thing with zoomers being clueless about what the Disney fandom was like before they got into it but I've seen so many people deny that anyone was ever presenting faux feminist critiques of the princesses, esp Walt's girls. But I don't even understand why they deny it, it's become a huge phenomenon you still see today and it takes only 5 seconds to use Google and find thousands of articles, memes, videos, comments, etc calling the girls weak and sexist. I feel it stems from these fans just not caring about the particular princesses who tend to be hated on and don't notice the unfair hate because their focus has always been on the popular, safe princesses (ie Mulan or Moana or whoever). If any of that makes sense lol. Just wondering your thoughts!

There's a very apt characterization of what occurred and it definitely comes down to a few things. The first being that a lot of these people didn't really have a strength of sentiment, one way or the other, for the original girls and just kind of assumed and inherited a lot of the misogynistic undercurrents in those contemporary, popular social criticisms that were parading around as feminism. I think a lot of those people pretended to have that passionate, spirited outlook on why Walt's girls were reductive somehow, while never really having had that opinion themselves. Most of those people didn't really spend much time consuming or thinking about their films, but did so because they felt it aligned themselves with being progressive or having a good social image.

There are some people that genuinely did seem to have seen those movies at least once and continued to carry that outlook, but it never really seems to be rooted in anything we see in the films themselves. Those people tend to just view every woman that was prominent prior to the 1960s with the same reductive paint-stroke and feel they were all victims of being socialized in a different time (which is so stupid lol if it weren't for the women that lived in that era, we never would have gotten the social movements we have today, nor the progress we have in each of them; but many people have told me "all woman born before the 1950s are inherently sexist because they're victims of what the system was like" which...). Then, there are people who- again- have seen these movies, but tend to condemn Walt's girls and pin them as a symbol of everything that was anti-feminist of that time, as opposed to actually judging them for the contents of their character. I'll never forget a book I bought at a used store called "Where the Girls Are," because it talked about female representation in the media and harked back to one of my favorite film titles. I was shocked when I read the book and it talked about how Cinderella in such shallow, mean-spirited terms. It brought up so many questions...the author writes that Cinderella had to be attractive, but wasn't allowed to be vain or spend a good deal of her film primping in front of mirrors- and I uploaded a good deal of screencaps to the contrary, but then it ran through my mind...if the author had been aware of that side of Cinderella, she probably would've condemned that too and called her materialistic or looks-obsessed. So it isn't really about what Cinderella herself did or was, but ultimately the author must've just held her up as an unfair expectation of what she, as a woman, was meant to live up to and made Cinderella a figure of all of her childhood frustration. That tends to be the case with a lot of boomers that grew up with Cinderella, and even kids today that write sympathetic backstories for blatantly abusive characters, like Anastasia; they emphasizing with her, despite all of her privilege and the atrocities she's committed, because she would be conventionally unattractive in our world and they project onto her what she must feel and what her lived experience would be, while discounting Cinderella- because she's conventionally attractive in our world- as being shallow or having privilege. It really is a fascinating study of how people view the world, which can be surmised through their view of the characters and how they react to them.

Which, and I have to make this note, but I'll truly never understand how Cinderella, the story about a female orphan who suffered abuse her entire life and continues to build a community and resources for herself so that she can escape and transcend her circumstances, has been painted through history to be a story about women being meek and staying in their place and being complacent and perpetuating so many patriarchal ideals about marrying rich and feminine beauty??? Especially when that wasn't Cinderella's goal, but the goal of the stepsisters who are always putting themselves in competition with Cinderella and are actively wanting to marry money and take a much greater delight in material riches.

[eemamminy-art]

Rambly story thoughts about my other wol, F'lihn!! She's not in the same universe as Leigh, so in her story Leigh is probably just like.. a normal guy in Ul'dah lol. But I had some new ideas about her recently and today thought of adding another one of my OCs to her story so I wanted to talk about it!!

First of all, I changed her look ever so slightly the last few times I drew her:

Pictured with Glassi in this first one 🥰 I had been waffling for a while on whether she just bound her chest or had surgery, and ultimately I decided it made the most sense for her to at some point in her story have surgery. A big part of her background is that she is running from her past and afraid to let others know that she's a woman, so she presents as a man to most people she meets but doesn't identify as such in private. I thought the leaf tattoos would be nice because it ties into purple as her overall color scheme, and also her tribe is from a Garlean occupied territory so I thought of the Roman motifs using leaves as like a nice way to kind of.. reclaim her homeland by putting flora from it on her body.

Here, I opted to give her a different nose and make her hair even curlier, and you'll notice I gave her a Garlean third eye as well. Which leads into the next thing...

In my initial draft of her story, she was just pressured to conform and mate per usual sun seeker tribal lore and that was her reason for leaving her tribe, but I felt like something about it didn't quite sit right with me. Like it felt a little too upsetting for me personally and kind of disingenuous for the way seeker lore works out in practice.

Not that it's any less dark what I decided on... 🥲 but basically, I had an idea that her tribe was being subjected to experimentation by the young Prince Varis. His grandfather may have invented magitek, but Varis was seeking genetic modifications to try and create a way for Garleans to harness magic. F'lihn's mother was one of the test subjects, with the intention of F'lihn coming out as a magical garlean but instead she was born a very magically apt but otherwise normal miqo'te-- save for the third eye which normally was only in full blooded garleans. So the experiment was regarded a failure, Varis was pulled away by the emperor for other matters, and F'lihn was left to grow up with her tribe as some sort of abomination-- half garlean, half miqo'te.

It made her an outcast in her tribe, it made her hate herself at first, then as she grew older she directed that hate toward Garlemald and the future emperor instead. Her echo awoke when she had a premonition of her becoming the next subject for experimentation and she got the fuck out of there, never looking back and changing her entire identity.

She traveled for a while through Garlean territories until reaching Kugane, then from there secured travel to Limsa Lominsa. There, she began ARR as the warrior of light, and also she would soon meet her gf, a failing but stubborn ship captain named Glazisil-- Glassi to her mates.

Glassi was my first OC in ffxiv but she never ever felt like a proper warrior of light. She's not very bright, she's loud, she's brash, but by gods is she loyal and stubborn!! She had been trying to follow in her father's footsteps ever since she inherited his ship, but Limsa is different than it was in her father's youth, and between the red tape around piracy, her own inexperience, and her inability to wrangle her crew all into one place long enough for them to have any amount of success, she's been floundering and just barely making by up until she meets F'lihn. She's totally awestruck and enamored the first time they meet, and she's the first person F'lihn ever really gets close to. Think of her like a golden retriever in the body of a pitbull, with a bad habit for swearing and drinking. (I wrote about them once for ffxiv write-- their first meeting, centered around her and her crew making bets after not being able to discern F'lihn's gender at first glance)

F'lihn would've begun her journey as an archer I think, trained to hunt like most miqo'te women even despite being the black sheep of her tribe. In Limsa she would discover arcane magic, and learn just how much magical ability she truly had in spite of being half garlean. Which would eventually lead to her becoming a scholar, but I'll need to work out details of just how that happens :3

It also gives me a fun dynamic to explore for her when eventually meeting Zenos, since they would share a father and have their connection spark due to that. Zenos obsessing over the sibling he never knew he had, you know? It makes it so much more complicated for her too, that she hates this place and these people with every fiber of her being but that there's reminders like this that she's connected to them in an inescapable way. And that she seeks ways to reclaim her own body like the body modification stuff I mentioned above, to try and deal with it!!

Onto the new thought I had today:

This is Aya, she's another OC I made who I ended up not doing anything with after I made her... but I had it in my head that her being absolutely huge despite being a female au ra was due to some sort of garlean experimentation as well.

So what I thought of today, was that she was kidnapped from sui-no-sato as a child (to kind of compound their reasons for being so isolationist) and taken to garlemald after the occupation of Doma, and then was experimented on to make her grow tall and muscular like that. They wanted her to be a super soldier but they underestimated how resilient she is, and one day she was able to break free and flee the capital. She's a gunbreaker, so I want to think she fled through Bozja and picked that up there, and eventually made her way to Eorzea.

Given they have a similar history and similar hatred for the garlean empire, I thought Aya and F'lihn would get along really well and become fast friends!! Another addition to the wol's entourage.

At this rate F'lihn is just gonna be surrounded by giant women... 😂 which I'm very okay with (and so is she lmao)

Slowly I'm developing this alternate wol storyline and I'm enjoying it!!! Much as I've built up Leigh and he's forever going to be who I consider my main wol, I really love all I've thought of so far for F'lihn and Glassi's story :3 I kind of had some hopes to draw the two of them for oc kiss week but I'm quickly running out of time, so we will see if I pull some things together last minute haha

[cultgambles]

Your Bday Headcanons

started writing this when it was my bday but then it was the next day already lol

btw it’s important to practice social distancing, so keep being safe, guys! luckily the bnha universe doesn’t have covid...

enjoy!!

word count: 821

Masterlist | Requests? open

Hawks

He already gets you random nick nacks on the daily, so he has to think really hard for your bday gift. 

It’s probably a piece of jewelry, since he likes shiny things

And it’s EXPENSIVE! MANS WANNA SHOWER YOU WITH ALL THE FINEST THINGS IN LIFE!

Hawks is also really good at attention to detail, so he would probably get something that matches your style really well. You know, not one of those ugly infinity necklaces lol 

You guys either share an apartment, or he basically moved in to yours. 

His M.O. is all play and no work, so I think he would definitely fight tooth and nail to get the day off. Maybe Tokoyami and his sidekicks can handle it. 

Hawks has never really celebrated birthdays, so he’s kind of at a loss what to do 

Luckily, your friends are here to help! A couple of your friends end up taking you out to get pampered, while a couple stay with him to decorate. 

They get your favorite colors for streamers and lots of confetti and balloons everywhere. They even rent a little arch with flowers. 

The cake! Very magnificent! Talking multi layer cake. 

No fondant tho 

All my homies hate fondant

Anyway, Keigo pretends he doesn’t know it’s your birthday, and just tells you to go have fun with your friends

You’re disappointed, ready to have a shit time, but when you come in the house at 8 you’re a bit buzzed and you really had a good time hanging w ya friends at the club (or wherever they took you)

All the lights are off when y’all come back to your apt and your friend pushes you inside 

“Hey what the fuck was—“

“SUPRISEEEEE!!!” The lights flash on and all your friends are there with confetti poppers, hawks in the middle.

“Happy birthday, baby bird,” he says, stepping forward to dip you into a kiss 

“Aww, Ke—Hawks, I thought you forgot me 🥺🥺🥺” 

“I’d never forget something as important as this! Don’t be silly. Let’s eat some cake!”

Keigo insists you open his present first.

It’s wrapped real prettily, you highly doubt he did it himself haha

It’s a beautiful necklace/earring set and he helps you put it on

All your friends gush how cute it is!!!

After the festivities, you’re tuckered out, practically laying on the couch with Keigo

He’s petting your hair softly, and whispers “happy birthday, baby. we’re going to spend them all together, okay?”

Dabi

Much more chill than Keigo’s, I mean it’s basically you and him against the world 

You wake up to the smell of bacon and waffles and eggs 

So good! Dabi’s actually a pretty decent cook, he just never uses his skills

The sun streams into the bedroom and you slip a pair of slippers on your feet

Walking out to the kitchen, he’s singing a silly song and you giggle 

“Doll, you were supposed to stay in bed so I could give you breakfast in bed :(“

“Aww, is big bad villain Dabi gonna pamper me today? He knows it’s my birthday?” you jest

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it. Happy birthday, weirdo,” he rolls his eyes, and leaning forward to give you a kiss on the forehead

“Thank you, baby”

Dabi just hums in reply and plates yours and his breakfast 

You’re both on the couch having small talk and enjoying the morning 

Lazy day in general 

He gives you your gift at a random time during the day 

Your eyes are closed from just blinking or something and you feel a box being pressed into your hands 

Dabs really isn’t a sentimental guy but he really felt he needed to get you something important, especially because you understood him like nobody else 

It’s really cheesy, but there’s so much effort put into it 

It’s one of those surprise exploding boxes

Filled with pictures of y’all and some sappy written things

There’s a gift card to Starbucks/Fav fast food chain taped to the bottom of the lid—just in case you didn’t like the actual gift 

Dabi gets a really good kiss for that gift 

“It’s okay?”

“Of course it is. I love it! I love you!”

“Here’s to (age), baby doll”

Later, he uber eats your favorite dinner and takes you to the drive ins to see a film

You’re cuddled up with a plethora of blankets and pillows in the bed of a truck (where did the truck come from? it’s certainly not his…)

It’s basically midnight and only a couple other cars are in the lot with y’all 

You even see a shooting star!

[kaylaxwrites]

A Day in the Life

masterlist // ao3

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Words: 2700 Request/Summary: A glimpse into your domestic life with Frank and your daughter Annie. (aka the one where we just want Frank to be happy and peaceful.) Requested by anonymous: "can you please write some frank castle fluff ? pleasepleaseplease"  Warnings: mild language, pregnant reader A/N: did this end up being a rambling mess? I had no idea. but while I was writing, I got so many ideas for a domestic day with Frank that I had to stop myself from including them all. (if you to see them all, let me know lol) also I’ve never written Frank before, so please let me know if anything’s off or OOC about him. I’d love to hear your feedback! 

(ps send me your requests pls)

You woke up to the smell of coffee. Though your back was turned, you could feel Frank sitting on his side of the bed, probably reading a worn paperback as he sipped his black coffee. (“None of that fancy creamer shit,” he once told you. “When I want coffee, I just want coffee.”) You smiled to yourself as you burrowed deeper into your covers—the bed felt warm and safe with Frank by your side.

Your bladder wouldn’t let you enjoy the feeling for very much longer.

Sighing, you stretched deeply before sitting up and blearing sleepily at Frank. “Morning, baby,” you said quietly, running your hand over Frank’s bare shoulder.

“Shit, did I wake you up?” His voice was still rough around the edges with sleep.

“Nah, more like this baby pushing at my ribs.”

Neither you nor Frank intended on having more children, not after his past and your complicated pregnancy with an ex five years ago. But after seeing the way he took to your daughter, Annie, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret this happy little accident. You hoped Frank felt the same way, if the smile in his eyes every time he looked at your daughter and growing belly was anything to go by.

Frank set his coffee mug and book on the bedside table in order to place a warm hand over your stomach. “Baby girl givin’ her momma trouble?”

Another kick to the bladder had you pulling away from Frank’s touch and out of bed. “He is a pain in my ass,” you said, pressing a kiss into Frank’s hair. “Just like his father.”

You and Frank had a running bet on the sex of your baby. (Annie was betting dinosaur.) Knowing wasn’t a big deal to you and you didn’t want to be like one of those gender-obsessed moms on Pinterest, but it was fun picking light-hearted arguments with Frank. It made you happy to see him joking, to see the tension ease from his shoulders even slightly. You knew the idea of having another child weighed heavily on his chest, so you knew how big of a step it was for him to make light of the situation, for him to even allow himself to become close with the daughter you already had.

By the time you returned from the bathroom, Annie was awake and curled next to Frank who was reading aloud from his book. Annie’s huge pit bull of a dog named Hulk (named after her favorite Avenger as well as an apt descriptor) had followed and laid his head protectively across her lap. (For the record, Hulk was not your dog. Hulk was not Frank’s dog. Hulk was one hundred percent, without-a-doubt Annie’s dog. She found him scared, cold, and alone in an alley one day last winter and they took to each other like ducks on water. Hulk followed you and Annie home that day and refused to leave her side ever since.)

“Morning, Mommy,” Annie said sleepily, still tucked against Frank’s side.

“Good morning, Annie,” you replied, running a hand over her hair to smooth her bedhead. “You hungry?” Annie perked up excitedly at that and nodded her head frantically. “Why don’t you and Frank take Hulk for a walk and I’ll get breakfast started?”

Annie nodded again and Frank swooped her up in his arms, setting her gently on the ground. “Help me tie my shoes?” she asked Frank, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“Sure, kid, I’ll help you,” Frank replied. He smiled as she ran out of the room as fast as her little legs could carry her. Hulk trotted behind her. Frank followed slowly behind them both, but stopped to spend a second with you. He slid his hands down to your hips and pulled you close. You rested your hands on his biceps, leaning back a little to look into his eyes.

“You good with her?” you asked, unsure if he was okay watching her by himself or if he wanted you to go as well.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Frank leaned down to kiss you, but stopped short when Annie called out from the other room. “Frank! I got my shoes on! I need help!” You let out a breath that was half exasperation, half laughter, leaning your forehead against Frank’s.

“Duty calls?” You chuckled.

“Duty calls,” Frank agrees, kissing you once more before stepping out into the main room, where you could see Annie kicking her feet against the couch. You smiled as you watched Frank kneel down and help her with her shoes. “What’s the first step? Tie a knot, right.” He tied the first shoe for her before having her show him how to tie the other one. “Attagirl,” he said proudly once she had finished. “Now go get Hulk’s leash, yeah?” Annie darted off again on her new task as Frank moved to lace his own boots.

You stepped to stand next to Frank, arms crossed, as you watched Annie try to figure out the latch to the leash. “You know she learned how to tie her shoes a week ago?” you said quietly so Annie wouldn’t hear across the room.

“That right?” he asked, peering up at you as he made his last knot on his boot before standing up.

“Mhm. I think she just likes asking you for help.”

Frank huffed, the corner of his mouth hitching towards a smile. And—was that your imagination or did he have a tinge of red across his cheeks? Before you could dwell on it further, Annie was in front of you again, this time hiding the leash behind her back.

“Hulk says he doesn’t want to wear the leash,” she said, rocking up and back on her toes.

Frank crouched once more to get on her level. “He did, now did he?” Annie nodded. “Well tell Hulk if he wears his leash today, we’ll go to the dog park tomorrow.” Annie’s face lit up and she ran off to tell Hulk the news. How this girl was so active this early in the morning, you’d never know. It was barely seven on a Saturday morning and she was already bouncing off the walls.

You headed into the kitchen to prepare breakfast as you listened to Annie and Frank banter back and forth. A few moments later, you caught a glimpse of them out the window. Annie skipped along the sidewalk with Hulk dutifully trotting next to her. Frank followed behind, carefully keeping an eye on the little girl.

By the time they returned, breakfast was nearly ready. Frank’s plate with eggs, sausage, and toast was set in front of his seat at the table. You placed the finishing touches on Annie’s smiley face pancakes before fixing your own plate and joining the two of them at your little kitchen table. “How was the walk?” you asked, pouring Annie a glass of juice.

“Good!” She smiled, syrup already covering her chin. She continued to talk around mouthfuls of food. “We stopped at Mrs. Hall’s bodega and I got to pet her cat. Then she gave me a piece of candy.”

“Candy before breakfast?”

“No,” she pouted. “Frank said I had to wait. He put it in his pocket and said I could only have it if I ate all of my strawberries.”

“Well, you better eat up, then,” you said, pointing at her untouched strawberries.

Annie continued rambling on about the walk, mentioning how many pigeons she saw and who she said hi to on the street. By the time she had run out of things to say, the three of you had finished eating. You cleaned up her face and hands before sending her to the living room for some Saturday morning cartoons. The distraction would last long enough for you and Frank to do the dishes and, if you were lucky, allow you time to take a shower in peace.

Frank had already started washing dishes when you joined him and you took the dish towel off of his shoulder so you could dry them. You completed the chore with relative ease and in peaceful silence. Occasionally, you’d bump Frank with your hip, causing him to smile at you.

“Got any plans for today?” you asked, drying off the last dish and placing it in the cupboard.

“Not yet, I don’t,” Frank said, turning to lean against the counter. “Why?”

“I was thinking of taking Annie to the park today and maybe running to the store afterwards. I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna come with us?”

“Yeah.”

“Great!” You reached up to place a kiss against Frank’s bearded jaw. “Can you watch Annie for a minute while I take a shower?”

Frank ran a hand through your hair and returned your kiss. “Yeah, go.”

“You’re wonderful!” you called as you hurried into the bathroom.

The warm water against your skin felt nice and you were tempted to take longer than you needed to in the shower to enjoy it. But you figured you’d need to be quick before it got too late in the day. As you were rinsing out the conditioner in your hair, you felt movement against your stomach. Looking down, you saw nothing and shrugged it off. But you felt it again a few moments later. And you realized.

You threw the shower curtain open. “Frank!” you called. “Frank! Come here!”

Frank barreled into the room a few seconds later, nearly throwing the door off of its hinges. His eyes were wide as he searched the room, looking for a sign of danger or anything out of place. He was already breathing heavily. “What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping towards you.

As soon as he was in reach, you grabbed his wrist and placed it against your stomach, not even caring about getting the sleeves of his shirt wet. Frank stared at you, confused. He opened his mouth to question you further when—

Kick.

Kick.

“Is that—?” he started. You nodded, grinning. Frank’s jaw went slack and he moved his free hand to the other side of your belly. The baby kicked again. “I never thought…” Frank trailed off, staring deep into your eyes. Before you could realize what was happening, you were up against the cool shower wall and Frank’s mouth was heavy on yours.

When you and Frank stumbled out of the shower a little while later, you found Annie asleep on the couch. The TV was still blaring her favorite show. You let her nap while you finished your morning routine. Half an hour later, you woke her up and helped her get dressed while Frank took Hulk for another lap around the block. Soon, the three of you were in your building’s elevator and venturing out into the world.

“Now, remember,” you said, fixing Annie’s hat over her curls, “what do we call Frank when we’re outside?”

“Pete,” she quickly answered, sucking on her lollipop she received that morning. You and Frank hadn’t told her much about his past, but you made sure she knew (in a kid-friendly way) that bad guys were after Frank and they couldn’t find out who he was. She was confused, but usually followed the rule anyway. Thankfully, her slipups happened mostly when no one else could hear her.

After a short walk, you arrived at Annie’s favorite park. As soon as you entered the fenced-in area, she sprinted towards the jungle gym. You turned to Frank as he shut the fence behind you. “This okay?” you asked, taking his hand. You knew sometimes parks like these, filled with screaming and laughing children, could set him on edge and remind him of his family.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could question that further, Annie was calling for you. Well, more for Frank, actually. “Pete! Come help me across the monkey bars!” Annie was standing on the ladder, but the first bar was out of her reach.

You watched Frank walk over and picked her up so she could reach and smiled when he held her by the waist to help her across. Then Annie made him help her three more times. (She sure was bossy. Frank once joked, “I have no idea where she gets it from.”) Soon, she was dragging Frank by the arm to some other part of the playground. You followed closely behind, occasionally taking pictures of the pair. You laughed when she had Frank go down a slide that was clearly too small for him. You regretted laughing when you, too, were made to go down the slide. Eventually, Annie made a friend and you moved to sit on a swing to watch her play.

“You’re really good with her, you know,” you said to Frank. He was leaning against a pole of the swing set, his arms crossed, as he kept a close eye on your daughter. “I’m really glad you’re in our lives.”

“Yeah, only I shouldn’t be,” he muttered. “Everything in my life goes to shit—”

You stopped him short. “I’m not here for this ‘I don’t deserve any of this’ bullshit tirade. Annie adores you. I adore you. I don’t even know where we’d be without you. I’m so thankful you’re in our lives and I don’t want you thinking you don’t deserve every little bit of the good headed your way because you do. Annie and I will worm our way into your heart whether you like it or not. We’re here to stay.” You stood and wrapped your arms around his waist. He didn’t return the gesture, but he didn’t push you away either. “Please let us love you.”

Eventually, Frank lowered his arms to wrap around your shoulders. He remained silent, but you would take it. You hoped eventually he would learn to accept the love of your little family, but for now, you were willing to leave him to his thoughts.

As the sun drifted closer to the horizon, you decided it was time to head back home for the night. After playing at the park, Frank treated you and Annie to ice cream cones and the three of you spent the afternoon wandering around the city before stopping for dinner at your favorite little restaurant. You decided to forego the trip to the grocery store today, pushing it off for tomorrow after eyeing Annie’s droopy, sleepy eyes. At some point on your way home, Frank started to carry Annie. You smiled as she drifted off to sleep in his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

Your heart warmed even further when Frank softly laid your daughter in her bed. He was so careful and gentle with her, it was hard to imagine him as the notorious Punisher. He slowly pulled her shoes off and you helped him change her into her pajamas. Once finished, he eased her back down on her pillows and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“G’night, Daddy,” Annie murmured, burrowing further into her pillow.

You froze.

Shit.

What were you supposed to say? What would Frank think? All of those parenting books you read years ago, and none had any solution for a situation like this. What were you supposed to do?

But Frank hesitated only for a moment before pulling Annie’s blanket up and over her. “Night, sweetheart,” he said, laying one hand on her forehead before standing and leaving the room.

After a moment, your brain finally caught up and you followed him out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. You found him staring out the window of the living room, hands on his hips. “Frank?” you called softly. You slowly walked over to him and ran a hand up his spine.

Frank sighed and ran a hand roughly over his face. “If-if anything happened to you, happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to us.”

He pulled away from you. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. Because I know you. I know you would give your life for us. And I trust you. You won’t let anything happen.” You paused. “If…if you want me to tell Annie not to call you that anymore, I will. Just… I know you think you should run away from us, but Annie would be heartbroken if you left. So, please…just give us a chance. I promise you we’ll be fine. Just stick around for us, yeah?”

“Yeah…” He stepped into your outstretched arms, pulling you close. “Yeah.”

dividers by @writeyourmindaway​

[firewoodfigs]

K for the fanfic ask game, please tell us your angstiest idea >:)

>:) what an apt expression, indeed! 

I’d say memento amare is pretty high up on the angst ladder. Like, I think the 7 chapters have been pretty tame so far - most of it has been a lot of set up and whatnots, but I’m really looking forward to getting to the ~ exciting ~ angst-filled parts :’) I’m going to refrain from dropping spoilers here but there’s going to be a lot of guilt from just about everybody’s ends. I just hope I do the characters justice - like, I love how complex every character in FMA is and I really hope I can write that out properly LOL 

Also, as I was mulling over the next few chapters today I suddenly had an idea for an alternate ending that’s... idk... somewhat tragic? I feel like I have a pretty high threshold of what constitutes tragic, so I can’t be too sure how this will affect the general audience LOL. I might have to bump the rating up to M for the alternate ending though, just in case :’D but that alternate ending (if it happens, and will be separate from the original one which I promise is a lot happier, though probably still somewhat bittersweet because my brain works like that) will likely open with lyrics from Lana’s Young & Beautiful. Not gonna pinpoint which line, because it’ll be a tad obvious, but the VIBE IS THERE and I am excited!! 

-

Another angsty idea I have is actually for a FMA/Naruto crossover of sorts? Idk if it qualifies as a crossover because I don’t intend to fuse alchemy + ninja skills together LOL it’s just... sorta inspired by some arcs in Naruto 😆 @lantur will know what I’m talking about because we discussed this briefly before xD and it’ll be pretty angsty because Roy takes after Itachi in many ways, and for everyone who’s watched Naruto we all know that didn’t necessarily end... well... And they’re both two (2) tragic men - like, they both experienced blindness at some point in their lives, was heavily involved in a massacre, and spent the rest of their lives living in deep guilt and a desire to atone for their sins. 

But Itachi, I think, has a more tragic backstory of the two because he didn’t have anyone by his side, though that argument could go both ways - in the sense that Roy has always felt like he’s the cause of Riza’s downfall, whereas Itachi did all that he did because he genuinely believed it would protect Sasuke. No spoilers, but also whether I’ll ever get around to writing this is a whole other can of worms altogether HAHAHA 

-

Yesterday I made a random post about a fic where Riza becomes Fuhrer instead because Roy dies (there was also the crack part, because my brain runs on memes approximately 95.8% of the time), and I think that’d be pretty angsty. Like, I think it’d actually be more tragic if one of them dies first, as opposed to both of them dying together, because they’d have to endure their shared burdens alone while their heart remains effectually claimed by the dead. I know this might appear to run contrary to the way she was depicted in FMA, but I think Riza would carry on if that’s what Roy truly wishes, because she knows that they have a job to do and probably won’t be able to rest easy knowing it’s undone. 

-

Thanks for the ask, friend, and for letting me rant about all the angst-filled ideas that have been rotting in my brain because I’ve been too tired to write them out as of late!!! 😆 I hope your weekend is off to a good start and that you’re keeping safe and healthy out there *hugs* <3 

[ttopswordvomit]

anger

march 25th, 2021. @ sonic.

This isn’t going to be super well written because I could edit it and edit it until I die, but I have decided not to care. I’m sitting here cross legged in my car at Sonic. It’s 9:42 on a Thursday and I’m just sitting here eating a Reese’s blast. I needed to leave my apt or else I was going to go to bed at 10 pm and this would all carry to tomorrow. No matter how bad I didn’t want to deal with it. 

I’ve had that feeling all day. Where the day isn’t really bad, I’m doing things that are good for me, but there’s that thing sitting in the corner. Festering so slowly and quietly that I don’t even fully know it’s there. 

It’s been hard to focus on work today. Maybe that was my sign that something needed my attention. Even now, I still haven’t cracked. Crying and shit. I think it’s because I don’t feel sorry for myself? I’m not just. Desperately sad. Maybe that means I’m numbed out. Which happens a lot so probably. 

I didn’t know what to do with this feeling. So what else is there to do but to push on and make the best of it? I wish I could describe the tangle of feelings that happens. I look at it and I only barely know it’s there. Much less what the hell is going on inside of it. 

I’m afraid of explaining all of this to Michelle. How do I summarize this feeling when I don’t even really know what it is? And I’m afraid that once we figure it out it won’t feel as big as it does. Like it’ll be chalked up to the things I can’t change. To the things I’ve been working on, that I should know by now. I’m afraid it’ll be dismissed. Maybe I’ve felt dismissed before. 

I feel like this hurts a lot. Like I’m not ready to have conversations or look it in its ugly face. I’m not ready to do the hard things it’ll require.

It scares me. 

It scares me because I know it’s going to hurt. And peace feels so far away. And especially now that I have a deadline to talk to my mother by... I feel so scared. Like it’ll never happen. Like I can’t possibly do it no matter how much I’ve told myself I can do it. No matter how much work I’ve done towards it. 

And this shit I’m avoiding.. it hits hard because it is so painful to know how absent my mother is. Realizing that the other day felt agonizing. The weight of it is heavy. And it makes me realize just how abandoned and alone I feel by my parents in general. It makes me so angry.

I see how far removed, detached, gone my mom is. She glazes over. She does it all the time. And I’m mad at her for it. I’m mad at myself for being mad at her for it, because I know it’s just her coping mechanism. That’s how she deals with things. I understand that. But it hurts me, and I can’t seem to ignore that yet. Because her coping skill leaves me standing by myself. 

It leaves me alone. Alone to deal with my feelings that I don’t even understand myself. 

I’m angry that she gets to just check out. Especially when I lived at home, I felt such a burden to deal with everything she chose not to. She used me to numb out. To pretend things were good. She used me emotionally to escape the pain of her divorce. And when that happened, I feel like I dealt with that pain alone. I couldn’t go to my mom. Not when I was carrying her weight. My sisters were all on different pages so that felt unsafe. I didn’t know how to talk to my dad yet. I suppose there wasn’t really a choice but to deal and move on. I kept going to school, I tried to pick up help around the house and with Stephen. My mom had never done the independent mom thing. She suddenly had a house to take care of all by herself. And me and Stephen. So I picked up the slack the best I could I guess. But that sort of backfired when I offered myself up as an emotional punching bag. My bad. 

I’m angry at my dad too. Because his physical abandonment hurts too. I’m glad he’s happy, I really am, but god. He’s so far away. He’s so far removed from the situation with my brother. He lives a totally different life. I don’t even know if he’ll be at my graduation and I’m assuming not frankly, because how weird would that be. Plus he hasn’t flown down here in over a year. That’s another thing. He’s good with me flying down there any time but he won’t come down here? I get it with Covid but. Damn. Why can’t he come see my sisters when he’s seen me way more this past year? They’re mad at him for it and I’d say they’re right for that. It’s shitty to not come see your other kids when you’ve seen me so much. I have the luxury of coming to California, they don’t. They have families and jobs. God I hate being in the middle of shit. And I always am. Curse the 9 in me. To see both sides and peacemake, and to be left alone in the middle with nothing. A curse and a blessing.

I think I’ll always be hurt by my dad’s distance. We miss out on the time we used to spend together. And it was a lot. Seeing movies, going out to eat, hanging out in general. He couldn’t come to my band concerts anymore. I don’t know what I wish for here. Maybe that he’d stayed a little longer? But I know he’s happy. So I don’t know. I guess it’s just always a little sad. Perhaps the way he left too was hurtful. One day I came home and he didn’t live there anymore. And from there he got farther and farther away. 

My parents are gone in their own ways. So far removed from the realities that neither of them can stand to look in the face. And I’m mad at them for it. Because look at my brother. He needs help more than ever and what do they do? My mom pretends it’s not as literally life threatening as it is. Her dissociation from reality puts all of us in danger, even though I believe she’s a good mom at heart. She approaches no situation with the gravity it deserves because she pretends it doesn’t possess that gravity. It’s dangerous. And my dad? Bottom line, he’s not here to do anything. He can say all he wants over the phone to my mom but she won’t listen. However it seems that as of recent his best advice is to “keep trying” and encouraging her. Which I guess is good in a way if she won’t take his suggestions. Idk. I won’t ever really know the truth of their private conversations. My brother won’t answer his phone for anyone, especially not my dad. So what’s he to do if he’s so many miles away? Which I still can’t excuse to a degree. Stephen is still his son. I get how hard it is to have any impact from that far away with a mom that won’t really listen, but damn, that’s your son. 

I’m just angry. Angry and hurt. There are so many repercussions from their far removed ways, and I feel so frustrated that my efforts to change that don’t even hold weight. I feel like I’m sitting on an island watching a fire burn in the distance. I feel abandoned and disregarded. Powerless. Pained. I can’t imagine how Stephen feels. And I’m so worried for him. I’m worried for my mom too. I genuinely want her to be happy. But the chaos she allows could get her hurt. And hell, I’m mad at her for allowing that. I want to scream at her to wake up, to care about herself and about her family. But she’s so wrapped up in her own misery that she dissociates and walks through life that way. Just getting by.

And for no reason at all, I can’t help but to think back to all the times I needed help emotionally. Especially in high school when I was so stressed and taking on too much. I would have a breakdown and if, god forbid, one of my parents saw it, they’d hug me and comfort me. But god. I wish they’d told me to drop an AP class or something. Told me to not overwork myself so hard. Instead it felt like... they just sat with me maybe like a friend would? But more removed than that. More distant. My dad would try to make light of it too fast. My mom would be so confused by my crying and try to offer solutions but. Something was missing. And I think it’s the fact that I needed some sort of... parent intervention? Some sort of reassurance that the number of AP classes I took didn’t define me. Or that my mental well-being was more important. I wish for those sort of lessons back then.

Writing has been relieving. Something about it untangles that web of feelings for me. It puts names to them and allows me to explore where they come from and what they look like for me. Maybe will try to emotionally release later, lol. Still sort of numb in that department, but thanks for listening. 

[shurisneakers]

espresso [8]

Summary: In which your best friend’s brother begins to set you up on dates when you mention that you haven’t been in a relationship in years, but things don’t go as expected.

Warning: swearing, angst (????), pining lol

A/N: surprise bitches i’m back but will disappear soon again for months at a time this is my entry for the exuberant @viktordrago‘s writing challenge (it took me like 20 minutes to find you kumi i2g) thank you to the best beta @samingtonwilson love u and our cinema boi  the fact that i had to fuckin gif this myself shows how desperate i am

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous part- Part 7 || Espresso Masterlist

Everyone has probably met that one person who is very different from the rest. Someone so profoundly boring, you had no idea you’d rather watch a tap faucet drip for eight hours straight than to ever be within a feet of them breathing.

That would be Vision.  

Vision talked like he had a thesaurus up his ass, smelled like mothballs, and had ideals much too similar to a less-funny, almost less-human Dwight Schrute.

“Hey birthday boy,” you excitedly hushed into the phone at midnight.

“Hey there,” he replied softly so you could nearly feel him smile through the phone.

“How does one more lap around the sun feel?”

“More or less the same. Hold on.” He paused for a second. “Yup, I feel normal.”

“You’re a bore, Bucky Barnes. You’re supposed to be excited or something,” you could hear Nat and Clint giggling about something in the room adjacent to the kitchen where you’d snuck to call Bucky.

“It’s just another day, my dude.”

“It’s your birthday!” you protested, filling up a glass of water and bringing it to your lips.

“Meh.”

“What do you have planned?”

“First off, bold of you to assume I thought I’d live this long to actually plan something,” he snorted and you could hear papers shift under him.

“How edgy.”

“Secondly, I’m sleeping till noon and I’m seeing you today,” He cleared his throat. “You all, I mean. The group.”

“Sounds ideal.” You took a large gulp of water before leaning on the counter.

“What about you?”

“Currently; an all nighter with Nat and Clint to complete assignments.” your eyes flitted to the doorway which you realized had gone quiet. You narrowed your eyes. “Other than that, I got nothing else to do other than your birthday thing.”

“Oh yeah, funny story by the way,” he laughed nervously. “I forgot to remind you that your next date is today.”

“Bucky I still don’t get it,” you straightened up immediately. “Today’s your birthday, why would you set me up today?”

“You’re busy through next week and then you have midterms after that,” he defended himself weekly. “And besides, relax. He said it’s an afternoon thing. He’ll drop you off before it starts.”

“Who is it?” you sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Jarvis; also known as Vision.”

You were silent for a moment as his name registered in your mind. “Why have you forsaken me this way?”

“Just give the guy a chance,” he chuckled, before yawning. “And remember, be at my place by five.”

He checked his rearview mirror again before turning his head back to the road.

You didn’t know if he was doing this on purpose, but he was driving at the slowest imaginable speed and you thought you’d reach the café faster if you just got out and walked.

He also happened to speak as slowly as he drove. “Can’t take my eyes off the road, you know. Road safety is a number one priority.”

“The world simply would not turn without capable drivers like you,” you murmured, sinking back into the seat that smelt vaguely of hospital-grade disinfectant.

The chances of you dying in an accident with him as a driver was much smaller than you dying of old age in his car.

He didn’t speak, a look of concentration as he made a turn at the curb, eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

“I thought Vision and Wanda were a thing,” Nat remarked, peering over your shoulder and into your phone when Bucky texted you. Regardless of the content of said text, you smiled anyway when you saw it was from him leading her to completely invade your privacy.

It was just a stupid meme anyway- something that he thought would be an apt goodnight message.

“Wanda doesn’t even remember him.“

“Ouch,” Clint winced from beside you. “That’s gotta hurt the dude in the feelings.”

“Assuming he has more of an emotional quotient than a potted plant,” you muttered grabbing your pencil from under Clint’s hand.

The three of you had assignments due next week, which you decided to do together over many cups of coffee and energy drinks.

“I’m gonna fail this stupid fuckin’ thing. We had to do a meta-analysis of this stupid novel and all I’ve done is watch the fucking movie,” Nat groaned, burying her head in the sheets right by your leg. “I can’t believe I paid a school thousands of dollars, which I don’t have, just to write a meta-analysis, which I haven’t done.”

“Get up, c’mon. You can do this,” you said, nudging her with your foot. She swatted it away, choosing to lie there.

“Nat, I’m too broke to make it rain at the strip club you’ll work at if you drop out. Come on. Let’s get this grade.” Clint rolled his eyes, prodding at her with his pencil.

“You’re so mean, Clit. I’d never invite you to my place of strip anyway.” She raised her head to pout at him but rolled over nonetheless to sit up straight.

“Strip club. And I told you to stop calling me Clit.”

“Whatever.”

As you pulled into the coffee shop eight hours later, you reached over to open the car door only to have him damn near hiss at you.

You reeled back in surprise, watching him shake his head vehemently and unbuckling his seatbelt.

“It’s dangerous out there, especially with those zero-traction shoes. Over 17,000 people die annually because of slipping and falling. Twenty percent to thirty percent of people who slip and fall will suffer injuries like hip fractures, or head injuries.”

”Zero to a hundred real quick, my friend,” you stated, nevertheless not moving. “I know it may not seem like much to you, but I do know how to walk. Been getting enough practice all my life.”

“This is a matter of life and death, Y/N. What if you slip on the sidewalk and crack your skull open? I’d be the one who would have to account to the officers about the lack of awareness when it comes to winter treading and it wasn’t fun the last time it happened,” he said, all in one breath, his head moving side to side furiously.

You stared at him, unable to form any words. Absolutely nothing.

He got out of the car, one foot at a time before slowly standing up and assessing his surroundings. Finally, he took one step forward before pausing and doing it again until he finally reached the other side of the car to open your door.

Wonderful.

“Be careful, don’t jump out too fast,” he commented, holding his hand out to you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“It was made very clear to ensure your safety at all times. James was very, very–“ he looked like he struggled to find the words “—fastidious about it.”

“Oh?”

“Say, Y/N, why exactly is Barnes setting you up with such… specimens?”

“He asked if I needed help in finding someone ‘dateable’. I agreed.”

“Your reasoning being?”

“Why not?”

“Excellent logic.”

“I was bored, Clint. He looked like he genuinely wanted to help.”

“Why didn’t he just set you up with himself?” Clint twirled his highlighter around his fingers. “He missed a great opportunity to pull the greatest plot twist of the century.”

“I really don’t think-“

“It’s probably not the best plot twist. He’s making it pretty obvious with the whole intense staring and heart eyes and writing on your cup thing.”

“Okay, first of all, there is no heart eyes or intense staring or- wait, what writing on my cup thing?” you caught yourself mid-sentence.

“Clint!” Nat hissed, glaring at him.

Clint looked between Nat and you for a few seconds before letting out the most apathetic and monotone, “Oops.”

“You just ruined it, you shit-eating fuck hammer. Bucky’s going to kill us both and then himself when he finds out.”

The place Vis took you was actually decent. It was the nicer of the two coffee shops in town, the other one being where Bucky worked. Still, something was missing and soon you felt yourself missing the chipped tables and fake plants of the other joint. You liked it much more than the pristine white walls and cold plush chairs here.

“Can we get a table for two? Preferably away from the noise-“

You glanced around to pinpoint what noise exactly he was talking about but came up blank.

There were two people in the shop.

“-And away from the sunlight?”

It was cloudy outside.

“Also, could you reduce the heat, please? It’s rather suffocating.”

It was winter.

“Do y’all have tables in the restroom?” you asked blankly.

He blinked at you, expressionless, “The restroom is a goldmine for germs and particles of fecal matter. Surely you know that, Y/N.”

“I just- it was a-“ you sighed. “Okay.”

The waitress however was a sweetheart, and you made a mental note to leave her a good tip before you left. She led you to a quiet corner, meeting all of Vis’ demands before leaving you alone with the menu.

“I think I’ll just go with an Americano.” Lord knows you needed it after last night.

Vision let out a tsk of disinterest, eyes scanning over the card tediously.

“Coffee can damage your liver, increase your risk of osteoporosis, and increased blood pressure. Especially the concentrated form in espresso shots.”

“Oh bother, well, I’ll just have to take that chance.“

“I prefer tea; rich in oxidizing properties. It’s also a wonderful material for composting,” he continued, ignoring your statement. He snapped the card shut, smiling knowingly at you.

The both of you gave your orders before returning back to the non-existent conversation at hand.  Vision chose to keep his hands on the table in front of him. It felt like he was about to give you The Talk. He looked straight into your eyes, never faltering or looking away.

“So,” you dragged out the word, pressing your lips together when he didn’t respond or shift his stare. “What’s u-“

“Do you compost?” he asked suddenly, not breaking eye contact.

“Compost?”

“Yes.”

“I would, but I can’t-post.” You grinned at him, expecting a laugh or at least a groan.

“I compost,” he said stoically.

“That’s great, Vis. What else do you-“ you tried to veer the conversation in some other direction because you had a very good idea of where this was heading.

“I have my own compost. Have you tried making one of your own?” he asked simply. “It’s very simple.”

“I gotta say, buddy, I’m not wildly passionate about it right now.”

“Do you want me to tell you how to make one?”

You blinked at him. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you.”

You screamed internally, smiling at him nonetheless.

It was 4:40. You’d be out of there soon enough.

“Why would you tell her that?!”

“What the hell are you both talking about?” you demanded, shoving your things aside and sitting up straight.

“How would I know she didn’t know?” he ignored you, instead answering to Nat, who was beginning to look somewhat like an angry parrot.

“Jesus Christ, will someone just tell me what don’t I know before I start throwing hands?”

“The shit James writes on your to-go cup every time you show up at his workplace.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you nearly shouted to match their volume.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen them! They’re so glaringly obvious, he might as well be sticking neon signs declaring his love on them.”

“I have never seen any of what you’re talking about except the ‘Mario’ he writes.”

“That’s only one side. Haven’t you seen the other?”

“No! Why would I?”

“He writes really cute messages on them,” Nat said quietly. “Some of them are normal stuff, like “I hope you have a really beautiful day” the others are like small bits of poetry that I think he writes.”

You stayed quiet, trying to absorb this information as much as possible.

“It was pretty clear that he didn’t want any of us-“ she glared at Clint who finally looked a bit guilty –“to tell you.”

“I genuinely thought you knew. He’s been doing it for months now.”

“I didn’t,” you muttered, sinking back. “That explains the weird thing he does whenever I throw away one of the cups.

“You what?!” Nat screeched, leaping to her knees. “Why would you throw them away?!”

“Hey, I didn’t know!” you defended yourself, throwing your hands up in surrender. “I literally found out about them thirty seconds ago.”

“Can you imagine how shitty he feels?”

“Now’s a good time to stop.”

“Just watching the girl you love throw away things you’ve made an effort to make?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“And that would be intimidating if you were… well, intimidating.”

“So once you finish one layer, you move onto the next and so on and so forth.” Vision stirred his cup for what seemed like the twentieth time and at that point, it was much more interesting than the shit coming out of his mouth.

He had been speaking for composting for what felt like a good hour, not allowing you to get a word in sideways about any topic that would be infinitely more interesting than this.

“Y/N, did you hear what I said?”

“What?” you jerked your head when you heard your name. “Oh, yeah.”

“Did you like a part in particular?”

Fuck.

“Loved the part about the… layers.”

“Layers are really the key to this whole thing, if you don’t have enough-“

“You know what has layers?” you said quickly, sitting up straight. “Onions. Ogres are like onions. What is your favorite movie?” if you had to hear him speak about soil and manure one more time, you were going to drown yourself in your tears right then and there.

You could feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, but you didn’t bother answering it before putting it on silent, feeling like you at least owed him basic etiquette.

“I’m not done,” he said blankly, “Now, as I was saying, layers really bring out the-“

You bring your hand down on the table a little too harshly but quickly cover it up with a smile. His voice faltered slightly before pausing when you looked at him expectantly.

“I don’t have a favorite movie. I think they’re all too dependent on suspension of disbelief. There is no true realism. None of them truly cater to what I want.”

“You’re a film major.” “So I can make films that capture the true essence of-“ he inhaled deeply before gesturing with his hands “—everything.”

The same waitress from before asked you if you wanted a refill, to which you agreed, Vision doing the same. You fiddled around with your cup in silence for a while, not knowing how to continue.

“Do you want to hear my idea for a script?”

“Sure.”

“It starts with a twenty minute shot of the ocean. Just lets you get into the tone of the movie. Then the next shot is of a horse stable. Then the next is of a wilted meadow. Then an opening door. Then an unruly bed. Then-“

“That sounds great, but what’s it about, Vis?” you emphasized, hoping to speed things up.

“I’m getting there, but please remember this desire for narrative has been fed to you. Without narrative, we truly push away from the comfort films provide and embrace a reflection of the world around us,” he insisted. “The next shot is a branch. Then a towel. Then-“

You nearly banged your head on the table.

“A church. A running tap, just to introduce motion, you know, to get things moving-“

“You need to make a move. Tell him you know about the cups.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

It was 4am and all of you had collective taken a break from whatever it is that you were doing around thirty minutes ago and were now just laying there, waiting for the caffeine rush to wear off.

“Why not?”

“Why do you care so much, Clint?” you asked, slightly irritated.

He moved his hands to rest on his abdomen. “I don’t. It’s just agonizing to watch.”

“Don’t watch then.”

“Fine I’ll date him then. I’ll get him to write me love letters too.”

“Go for it,” you snorted, shaking your head.

“Maybe I will. I’ll ask him out today, just watch me.”

“Don’t let him break your heart, babe,” Nat encouraged him.

“He’d have to reject me to do that.”

“Why on earth would he ever do that?” she poked at his cheek, watching him grumble and shove her away.

“I think he and Dot are a thing,” you said suddenly, facing the ceiling.

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t look too invested.”

“They hang out a lot now, did you know?” you continued, ignoring Clint.

“You should ask him. Set the record straight.”

“I think I’ll keep all my feelings to myself and then die, thanks.”

“Just tell him, man. It’ll make your life much simpler,” he rolled onto his stomach to look at you. “Sweetheart, I love you, but all this pining isn’t helping either of you. Tell him, and if he likes you back, great. If he doesn’t, well, at least you’ll know, right?”

“That’s easy to say, but try doing it yourself.”

“Oh I did. The first one rejected me straight out, and it fucking sucked balls, but I could move on. Sometimes it’s better to take that chance.”

You were silent. You couldn’t believe you were actually considering what he’d said.

“Alright fine, here’s the deal. If I can gather the guts to ask out Bucky, you’ll have to do it too.” Clint held out his hand for a handshake and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Fuck outta here. You’d do it without any regrets.”

“True, but you look like you need a push and I’m offering you one.”

“I appreciate it Clint, but it’s never going to happen. I’d rather choke.”

“I’m not gonna force you, but just think about it. It’s all about a leap of faith.”

The three of you remained in silence before Nat broke it, giggling to herself.

“Are you going to ask him out though?”

“Hell, maybe I will. Five o’clock, right?” Clint looked at his watch.

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna do it, watch me.”

Five.

Five.

Five.

Fuck.

You suddenly broke out of your train of thought and scrambled for your phone, interrupting Vision’s marvelous idea for an Oscar winning script.

Your heart stopped beating altogether.

It was nearly 6:30 and there were nearly twenty unread messages and around ten missed calls illuminating your notification bar.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cursed steadily before standing up, your chair scraping against the floor behind you.

“Is something wrong?” Vision asked delicately, still clearly immersed in his thoughts.

“We need to leave now.” You pulled out enough cash to pay for your share, tugging your jacket back on hurriedly. “Now.”

“Why?”

“I’m late. I’m really, really late and we need to go now.” You had no idea that much time had gone by, scolding yourself for not keeping track of how long you were there.

“Alright, but are you-“

“Now, Vision.” You glared daggers at him until he relented, paying his amount and walking to the entrance at his own pace while you were nearly running.

From Becca:

Where are you???

From Becca:

We’re waiting for you to cut his cake

From Steve:

Hey, are you on your way?

From Becca:

McFucking Dot is here why tf is she here who invited her and why is she so touchy with bucky

From Nat:

I swear to god if you’re off making out w/ that boy instead of being here

From Wanda:

hey, we just cut the cake without you, hope you don’t mind. Where are you??

From Becca:

Someone “”””””accidentally””””” spilled their drink on dotzilla she’s all wet now

From Becca:

I can say with 80% accuracy that it wasn’t me

From Nat:

Becca just spilt her drink on Dot what the hell

From Clint:

Dot just left the room to go change because this dumbass turd just poured beer over her. now’s my chance

From Becca:

Yo where tf are you

From Nat:

We’re just sitting around, watching a movie. Are you showing up?? Why aren’t you answering our calls? Is everything okay?

From Becca:

Clint just asked out Bucky wtf sdjhgdkjfhgkdjfhg

From Clint:

I asked him out. he rejected me. I think I’m gonna keep trying

From Nat:

Clit’s bribing Bucky into saying yes

From Clint:

He said no im leaving this bullshit party

From Becca:

I just told Bucky you’ll be running late are you even showing up where are you

From Bucky:

Date going well? Hope you’re safe. Saving you a piece of cake 🍰

“Can you drive a little faster, please?” you urged him, furiously responding to everyone’s texts as quickly as you could.

“I’m already going as fast as I can,” he replied, driving at almost half the speed limit.

“Sweet Jesus,” you breathed out, running your hands through your hair. “Alright Vis, detour. Drop me off at this address.”

__

You didn’t wait to catch your breath as you ran up three flights of stairs to his dorm room, hands repeatedly slapping against the door.

A minute later it swung open, revealing a slightly panicked Bucky.

“What the-“

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so fucking sorry. I lost track of time and I didn’t even realize, it was entirely-“

“Woah, hey- hey it’s okay. It’s okay. ” He opened the door wider, a mix of confusion and concern on his face. “Take a second to catch your breath.”

As you did, you noticed he was wearing a black t-shirt that had no business looking that good, grey sweatpants, and his hair was pulled into a half bun, having grown longer due to months of not trimming it. He looked beautiful.

You took a moment off of staring at his stupidly attractive face, and beyond his shoulder into his dorm. You could see the empty beer cans littering his living room, the clear signs of a party.

“Everyone left?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, just a few minutes ago.”

“Shit, Bucky-“ You sighed, frustration evident in your voice, feeling your heart sink. “I never meant to miss this, I promise.”

“I know you didn’t, don’t worry. I see you almost everyday, Y/N, it’s definitely okay to miss one evening.” He laughed lightly, shifting his weight to his other shoulder.

“It’s your birthday.”

“Like I said, it’s just another day.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s nothing too big.”

Stop staring at his fucking chest.

“I bought you something,” you blurted out, tightening your grip on your bag. “A birthday present, I mean. I bought you a gift. For your birthday.”

Stop mumbling, you big oaf.

“Y/N,” he complained, “We talked about this. You didn’t have to-“

“It’s a journal,” you interrupted him, scrambling through the contents of your backpack to find it. “Each page has a question. 365 days, 365 questions. I mean, theoretically, it doesn’t work for leap years but, you know, this coming year isn’t one and I-”

You finally grabbed hold of the brown, leather bound book, pulling it out with ease and holding it out to him.  He looked back at you without a word.

“And I know how much you like writing, I just thought it’d be nice to look back on how much you change or how much your thoughts change over the year.” You pushed it forward gently, urging him to take it. He held onto it silently, running his fingers along the pages before flipping open to the first page.

You keep records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them. If you want to Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education, it’s history.

You watched him read it, his eyes widening slightly once he realized where the excerpt was from.

“That’s- that’s from-”

“The Catcher in the Rye. Yeah.” You shifted uncomfortably when he fell silent again, staring at you without a word.

Great.

“I know it’s stupid and nowhere near anything you’ve gotten me and I can get you something else-”

“I love it.” The look in his eyes made you want to melt. “So fucking much.”

“Really?” You couldn’t hide the surprise from your voice.

“It’s probably one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever given me.”

“There are some really stupid questions in there, like about memes and stuff because I thought you’d like it, but the rest are relatively normal.”

“It’s absolutely perfect.” He blew a few strands out of his face, letting his hands fall to his side. He opened his mouth to say something else but instead he shut it again.

It was probably the silence that ensues that made your fight or flight instincts take over because the next thing you realized is that you had both your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug, earning a small ‘woah’ from him.

It took him about a second but he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in closer, if that was even possible, dropping his forehead into crook of your shoulder. He smelt of fresh laundry and cinnamon and you couldn’t help the breath that escaped your lips. You could feel his breath tingling your neck and the warmth he exuded seeping in through your sweater. It reminded you of home.

You unwillingly pulled back, stuffing your hands back into your pockets awkwardly. “Happy birthday, James.”

“Thanks,” he said softly, biting his lip. “I, uh, saved you a piece of cake.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Finally he shook himself out of whatever he was thinking, moving and holding open the door invitingly. “Do you- uh- do you want some?”

Just tell him you like him, for the love of God.

“James I-“

“Bucky? Do you know where the tissues- oh hey Y/N!” There was no mistaking who walked out from Bucky’s bathroom. Bucky whipped his head around, confused, before who it was registered in his mind and he turned to look at you again.

“Hey Dot.”

“We missed you today,” she chirped, approaching the doorway, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah, me too.” Something was amiss about her before you finally caught on.

She was wearing his shirt.

Oh.

“Um, I better get going.” You swallowed. It felt like you were missing something crucial. Why would she be wearing his shirt at his place?

“Wait, I thought-“ he furrowed his eyebrows, straightening up.

“It’s getting pretty late, I gotta go.” You half-smiled, pointing behind you to the setting sun. “Maybe some other time.”

“At least let me drop you back. Let me just grab my keys-“ he turned around, ready to walk back into his apartment.

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, taking a step back. “I could use the fresh air.”

“It’ll be dark out soon.”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, continuing to walk backward before waving at him. “I’ll catch you later, Buck. Bye Dot.”

“Y/N-“ he tried again but you just waved again before spinning on your heel and walking off, waiting till you were out of eyesight before fumbling for your phone and calling Nat to come pick you up from his dorm because sure, you may be feeling like shit, but that didn’t mean you were going to walk home in the middle of winter, alone.

Leap of faith, my ass, you thought.

Leap off a fucking cliff was more like it.

Part 9

[evenonelife]

2019, Year of the Pig

A friend of mine has a tradition of writing reminisces of the year past at the beginning of the new year. I have avoided doing the same for previous years for a variety of reasons, but as one resolution I have for myself is to be more aware of my self - to be less adrift - I decided to try to puzzle through what 2019 meant to me. Forgive me if this rambles, I have always been more ordered with my external thoughts than my internal ones. And this is for myself in any case. To my friend I am shamelessly imitating, you know who you are - forgive me my indulgence. This will be lengthy - I have never been concise. 

2019 at the core was a year where some stability was returned to my life. 2016 to 2018 were the three darkest years of my life for a slew of reasons too personal to go into here and it felt at times like I would never find my way out of that depression. I really owe more than I can express to a handful of friends that gave me a desperately needed outlet of emotion that otherwise just festered while I lived alone in a strange new place. 

BUT, in late 2018 and through 2019 things did start to get better. I left my quiet apartment and moved in with three girls that I had never met before in a leap of faith to stave off the unbearable solitude that I was struggling with. I may not have made the connections that I had hoped for with those girls, we just have too little in common, but the hint of community that it gave me meant and still does mean a great deal to me. It was also around that time that I started playing DND regularly, and the creative outlet was honestly so meaningful that in the beginning there were several nights where we would end our call and I would be in tears over how much it meant to me.

I say all this to provide myself the necessary mental background to come back to 2019 and just what kind of year it was. 

Professionally - 2019 was my second full year in what was my first full-time ‘professional’ job. One somewhat related to my college degree. The greatest positive change in that role certainly was in how I through necessity came to be the authority in the office on a couple of points of business. This meant that I was invested in the outcome and not merely acting as a cog in the machine. The job certainly was not my dream job, something that I don’t really have a firm hold on anymore, but it was better and it made me feel more confident in myself and in how I dealt with those around me. 

More relevantly and recently I was contacted by someone who wanted me to work for them. Me! I was contacted, not doing the contacting! The pure shock that I felt when I got that e-mail and during the breakneck period that led to my accepting a job offer in less than a fortnight can not be overstated. Sometimes I feel that my jaw is still on the floor and I am filled with a surprisingly powerful feeling of hope. My new supervisor will be a fellow Aggie and there is a definite friendliness to the office. Also as much as I personally have distaste for Houston as a city to live in, it is undeniable so much closer to the friends that I cannot help but be excited for that future. 

Mentally -  I already alluded to it, but mentally I was in a dark, dark place that 2019 saw the gradual lifting of, that I am still working towards. I can admit to myself that when I am depressed I withdraw as a defense mechanism.  I find myself drifting through the days, one week the same as the one proceeding it. It is a fact that I have to confront that I have had very few true confidants in my life and in fact was taught that being emotionally vulnerable was just providing ammunition and as a result I find it intensely uncomfortable to reach out to others and risk. I am happy to say that during the decade of 2010-2020 in general I met several wonderful individuals who taught me this isn’t always the case but it is still something I struggle with.

This is something that I have not done as well to combat in 2019 as I would like, BUT there are some key exceptions. For one, in the last months of the year I took over the DM responsibilities for our weekly group. The responsibility of no longer being able to just show up and make funny voices means that I have to actually have a plan for the week ahead of me. Have to think of the near and not so near future, and this is KEY friends, for a reason that MATTERS to me. It isn’t something like “oh you need to do your taxes every spring” its that I know that in 6 months my friends will be invested in the story we tell together and I don’t want to let them down. That responsibility really helps. 

On a different track entirely I have begun to internalize that my future is my own to create. There is no looking back and imagining what could have been. I intend to re-focus on my hobbies and what makes ME feel fulfilled in the new year. I began to explore my creative needs again and I mean to pursue that with the freedom that an apartment to myself will bring me again.

Physically -  *OOF*. Well, 2019 BEGAN in a really good way physically. I was using the gym as a coping mechanism and going 4 or 5 times a week. I was running because it made me feel good. Ran a 5k competitively and was running 10ks in the gym in preparation to doing a race. I had aspirations of doing a Tough Mudder! But lol as things do one thing led to another and I’ve been attending no more than once or twice a week for months. And my body is reflecting that choice. In my defence it is so hard to motivate to go to the gym after work when its dark at 5pm :(. I’m hoping I can do better in Houston. An apt. Clubhouse will help. 

I also will definitely start eating better. 2019 saw waaaaaaay too much eating out. The cramped nature of our kitchen and the less than neat ways of my housemates meant that most of the time it was easier to just pick something up, or prepare things that took little space. Lots of pasts and frozen chicken and soups. But I’ll have my crockpot again and a freezer to myself and HEB for fresh veggies and Yay! Good changes ahead, unhealthy year behind. I also began flossing again in 2019 so I’m sure my Dentist will be happy about that. Oh yeah….dentist and eye doctor didn’t happen in 2019. Let’s go 2020!

Socially -  There isn’t much else to say here since my social life has been so intrinsically linked with my mental health. But I definitely have room for improvement in 2020. I never really found a community outside of work in Connecticut. I had some limited success with MeetUp and actually managed to make a couple friends. Who promptly moved away. But my DND group changed to include two new friends who I value highly. I also began to reconnect with old friends who I’ve fallen out of touch with and intend to continue doing so. I’ve had dinner with two old friends in the last week and had a lovely time. Reviving regular group chats, beginning the rebuilding of a friendship that was shattered by a change in...everything I guess, all are good things that I can see just getting better in 2020. I’m particularly excited to be able to drive to see people again. Even if it isn’t QUITE close enough to be able to just casually drop by, my college station friends will be close enough to impulse visit, or see concerts together, Ren Faire, etc. And I just have a feeling that making new friends will go better in Houston. Maybe? We will see. 

Romantically -  Not this year. The insecurity and fear of rejection don’t help let me tell you. I also have serious trouble believing myself to be someone that someone else desires or loves. My issues nobody else's right anymore. I talked to a few girls on Meetups that never led to anything. Matched some people on Tinder and Bumble but was never confident enough in the moment to go for it. Had a gay man hit on me once, that was flattering but I don’t reciprocate. Anyways, I hope for better in 2020 but I need continued mental growth first. 

So, Yah, that was longwinded and definitely drifted far from the point of being just about 2019. But I feel like I needed to say what I said for it the puzzle pieces to fit in my own head about what 2019 WAS. It was a year where life started to seem like an uphill climb again instead of falling into a pit. And it ended on a very bright note that has me optimistic for the future. I know that a year ago today I was not feeling optimistic like this. That can only be a good thing. 

[loading99percent]

Nice to Meet You

Pairing: LYJ x OC [Li Meilian] Genre: slice of life Word Count: 1,436 Summary: “ You’re my neighbor who got drunk and thought this was your apartment but I can’t just send you back home when you keep crying and venting about all of these awful things happening to you” cliche APT AUs.

Warning: swearing and the mentioning of drinking (obviously lol)

My third request, but sharing out of order as I got inspiration in writing this request as I’m still stuck with the others. Sorry for the wait to the anon that requested this. I’ve been in a slump and life got in the way and I actually found time to write and finish this. Hope you like it and happy reading and kthxbai, Admin Lia~

Meilian staggered down the hallway of her apartment floor after stepping out of the elevators. She normally didn't get drunk unless she knew that one of her friends would take care of her, but tonight she just needed a drink and had one too many. Feeling the slight headache coming on, Meilian continued to hurried, but clumsily walk down the long hallway until she reached the door to her apartment. Meilian pressed the four digit code, but it didn't work. Believing it to be because of her drunken state, Meilian tried again, but failed once more. She steadied herself as she stared at the nine-numbered key pad as she slowly, but surely pressed the right buttons. It still didn't work.

Frustrated, Meilian let out an agitated sigh as she tried to fish her keys out of her bag. While rummaging through it she grew more irritated as she couldn't locate her set of keys amongst all the other junk she got in her bag. Cursing herself for basically stuffing so much stuff in it she started mumbling about everything else that was going on in her life at the moment and it seemed that fate really wanted to mess with her of all days. Once Meilian finally found her keys, she slowly found the right one before inserting it into the keyhole, and fter turning it and thinking it would open now, it didn't and Meilian let out a strangled cry of disbelief.

"Seriously? What the fuck, man?" Meilian silently cried as she banged her head against the door several times while not caring that it would probably leave a bruise later.

Just as Meilian's forehead was about to smack against the door for the nth time, it suddenly opened and Meilian stumbled into another body. Yanjun's eyes widened upon the female falling against him as he instinctively held out his arms and steadied her with his arms still lingering around her to make sure she wouldn't fall over.

"Are you okay?" He simply asked, but this innocent question opened a dam and Meilian burst into angry tears.

"No, I'm not okay!" She cried before ranting. "Nothing's fucking okay! Life sucks! The owner of my job is a fuckin' dick and a cheapskate. My general manager is a two-face bitch who won't hesitate to throw someone under the bus to save her own ass and all of my colleagues can't do shit without being told to do something." Meilian let out a heavy sighed. "I hate being an assistant manager that they still treat like a regular worker that knows how to do more shit than them and still keep it professional, yet all these motherfuckin' idiots think it's easy to be in my position when all they do is depend on me when they don't know how to do something or want a scapegoat."

"Daman, I hate stupid people." Meilian sighed once more as she continued to speak. "I really wanna quit, but I still need the job and money. I just wish they would realize that I'm important and without me they wouldn't even be where they are right now because they still can't fuckin' operate the system on their own without blowing up my phone left to right." Meilian leaned her head against Yanjun's chest as tears continued to escaped. "Why can't they use their own brain and actually assess the situation, look it up on their own, or even make sure it's all there before bugging me?"

Yanjun stood frozen with Meilian still in his arms and wasn't sure how to respond as he was totally not expecting this at 2 in the morning. He kind of regretted in opening the door, but he had to know who was relentlessly banging on his door and had inserted the wrong code three times that woke him up as his security system's automated voice kept interrupting his sleep. Although he has seen Meilian and exchanged a few greetings and light conversations here and there, Yanjun has never really seen her in this kind of state before or well been in her presence for this long since they said hi to one another. Plus, Yanjun never really learned his neighbor's name despite living in the apartment complex for almost two years now.

"And now I can't even enter my apartment because the code doesn't work and neither does my key." Meilian continued on speaking as she just felt like venting to someone since her roommate was overseas due to work and her other friends that she went drinking with she didn't feel like talking about work and they made sure she temporarily forgot about it. "And I have this splitting headache pounding against my head and now I really wished that I didn't drink so much tonight, but after today's stressful event at work I really needed it."

Yanjun slowly started rubbing Meilian's upper back in a comforting motion while quietly calming her down with several 'shhs' despite his shirt being drenched with his neighbor's tears. Meilian wasn't even sure why she had ranted this to her neighbor as she didn't want anyone to see her like this especially when someone as good-looking as Yanjun didn't need to witness this ugly side of her. Meilian hated anyone seeing her like this as she felt like no one should see someone in this state. Plus, she didn't even know the name of her neighbor despite living here for a couple of years. Anyways, Meilian mustered up the energy and pulled herself out of Yanjun's embrace and backed up while wiping the rest of her tears away.

"Sorry about that." Meilian apologized while shooting Yanjun an apologetic smile. "I just realized now that I kind of sobered up a bit and after seeing the number of your apartment that this isn't even my floor." She let out a scoff. "I'm such a mess and I'm sorry for disturbing you with my problems as you didn't even need to hear any of that from a total stranger although w're neighbors and what not. Anyways, I'm just gonna go and probably screamed into my pillow of this embarrassment for the rest of my life." Meilian then shot Yanjun a sheepish look. "And definitely avoid you for the remainder of my stay here, too. Bye."

Yanjun reached out a hand and took Meilian by the elbow and Meilian looked at him questioningly.

"You’re my neighbor who got drunk and thought this was your apartment but I can’t just send you back home when you keep crying and venting about all of these awful things happening to you." Yanjun told her before letting go of her elbow and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Well, you were crying and venting, but you seem to be feeling better now." Yanjun contemplated if he should ask the question that backfired earlier, but he felt that it was safe to ask now. "Are you okay?"

A small smiled appeared on Meilian's face as she nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm okay now. Thanks for letting me vent out to you and for caring even if you didn't have to, but it was much appreciated."

Yanjun smiled showcasing his dimples and this made Meilian feel slightly even more better upon seeing them.

"Well, I know it's maybe like three now and you may want to sleep this off, but I'm up and you're still up," Yanjun began, "Would you like something to eat or some water and maybe an Advil or Tylenol to help you?"

Meilian let out a small chuckle as she debated with herself about his offered and agreed. "Sure, I guess. I did wake you up and since you're offering, I guess it's the least I could do to accept it."

"Lovely. I'm Lin Yanjun by the way." Yanjun introduced himself while offering his hand which Meilian accepted instantly. "Li Meilian. It's nice to finally and properly meet you, Yanjun."

"Likewise, Meilian. Oh, just to let you know, I don't know how to cook, so I hope you don't mind microwave food or ready to eat food."

"It's fine. I can probably make something for the both of us once the alcohol finally leave my system or something close to it, which reminds me. I really do need to use your bathroom though."

Yanjun chuckled as he motioned for her to enter his apartment. "It's down the hall and the first door on the left."

"Thank you!" Meilian said as she took off while Yanjun shut the door and looked towards his kitchen. "I hope I have stuff that she can actually make."

[remembermemorablememories]

Friday, August 24, 2018

last day at work!! :’(

post #228

main points:

- prepare for presentation in the morning

- run through with mentor

- actual presentation 11:30-12pm

- lunch with my mentor at a hunan cuisine place

- attempt to submit one last PR (trying to submit since yesterday) but still not working. it was unrelated but seemed to block despite a force push flag

- went to company demo session, saw karl and vishal’s demo. tried to work on a fix for the PR in case somehow i was the one to break the two tests? turns out it wasn’t me though

- go to happy hour with harvy and roberto. harvy helped fix my flag -- i used an enter instead of a space, causing the flag to not register correctly

- hang out at happy hour with harvy, roberto, alex, jp and grace. meet up with andrew and jess briefly to say good bye. also say good bye to vishal 

- go upstairs to play melee with shang, eric, ivan, mansfield. say good bye to all of them one by one :’( 

- harvy swung by after the gym at the melee setup to say good bye one last time, i felt sad :( 

- played melee with john, he got back from a doctor’s appointment. we played one last final round of shine thief + 150cc race. picked up some swag

- ubered home and ate leftover food from the hunan place for lunch + rice i picked up from sunny sushi in the shopping plaza 

- pooled with dan by accident (again), said good bye

- got home, reheated the food, then just watched the office and went to sleep by 12am

(writing this on wednesday august 29, finally catching up)

today i:

- woke up at 8:30am. ubered with karl to work. it was my turn to call the uber. my last uber to work :’(

- we got to the office. i grabbed some breakfast with karl. one final meal in the cafe :’(

- went up to my desk around 10am. mentally started going through my presentation stuff. tried to submit my PR that i was unable to submit yesterday. tried to force push with a flag but that also didn’t seem to work. was kind of confused and would worry about that later

- i did a runthrough on my presentation with my mentor from 11-11:30am. he said my presentation was solid, just some small things to update on two concepts

- went to do my final presentation 11:30am-12pm in a meeting. i did my presentation/demo for about 15 minutes. around 11:50am, another team member (jennifer) did a demo on her work which looked cool

- harvy treated me to lunch at a chinese restaurant in milbrae. it was at wonderful, which had some authentic hunan cuisine. it was absolutely delicious food. but also pretty spicy. we chatted a bit about my plans for and after the semester. harvy also gave me some career advice in terms of location and working at HQs. we ordered so much food 

we definitely couldn’t finish all of it. he said i could take the leftovers and eat it for dinner later :D 

- went back to work and tried to submit that last PR. it unfortunately still wasn’t working. i started wondering if maybe i did indeed break something

- around 3pm i went to a company meeting to see karl and vishal’s intern project since they got a time slot to demo there. they weren’t going until the very end but it was my first time attending the meeting so i figured might as well check it out before i leave. while i was in the meeting, i worked on the PR, thinking that maybe the two tests were failing because i actually did break something. after working on it for 20-30 minutes, i still ended up with the same error message. welp. i guess the error wasn’t my fault

i also saw karl and vishal demo their project, it was SOOOO cool!! 

- after the meeting, i went back up to my desk to ask harvy what the issue might be with the force push flag, since it didn’t seem to go through and the issue wasn’t my fault (now verified). before we went to happy hour, he came over and took a look. it was cause i used a newline/enter character instead of a space before pasting a link... so the flag wasn’t getting registered. i’ve been trying to submit this since the end of wednesday... LOL. derp. glad i could get it submitted on my last day!

- went downstairs to happy hour with roberto and harvy. i had to return my badge cause they’d be closed by 5. so i walked around with a guest badge as a guest for harvy LOL. it was my last happy hour :’( i tried some mixed drink with tequila and pineapple flavoring... it was... weird. then noticed that roberto got cider and went to grab one of those. i love cider :D harvy then also grabbed one and we sat down just chilling. there was a performance going on out on the patio. we were also joined by alex and grace. it was a nice way to relax

i got a message from andrew in the breaking group chat and went to go say good bye/chat with him for a bit. jess was also there with this really cute dog. then i went back to harvy/roberto/alex. JP came by and we chatted with him for a bit. the whole summer i never formally met him until my last day LOL. he seemed really cool

then alex suggested we go up to play some melee. cause in the group chat some peeps were playing upstairs. we went up around 5pm, i went to say good bye to andrew/jess then vishal/rabia and karl (though i’d see karl back at the apt)

- went upstairs to drop off some stuff and had a brief conversation about amazon with grace, harvy and roberto. then went to play melee with alex, shang, eric, ivan, mansfield. shang left first so i gave him a hug. he made some funny comment like “this is the first time our bodies have touched”. then alex left so i said goodbye to him. then i played some games with mansfield while eric played ivan. then i played one last game with eric before he left, and then said goodbye to him. then mansfield left to catch the shuttle at 6:30 and i said goodbye to him :’(

finally it was just me and ivan, who i’ve heard about but never played with the entire summer cause he had been busy with work. 

- harvy swung by after he went to the gym. we finally said good bye and i felt really sad :/ he was a really good mentor and wholesome dude. i felt like he was really patient with me in my project. hopefully i’ll see him again sometime in the future

- i played a few games with ivan and then he left. by then it was like 7pm. i was ready to head back up to ask john where he was and then bumped into him in the hallway. we were like yo let’s play some games. cause he went to a doctor’s appointment so i wasn’t sure when he was coming back

- we did one final thing of our circuit. we played like 5 melee games. then shine thief in mario kart. then a race in mario kart. and then that was it :’( 

- we walked over to where the swag stuff was. i picked up a t-shirt and some pop sockets. i knew the swag was there all summer i just kept forgetting to get some. john also grabbed some too

- we went back to our desks and i cleaned up my desk, making sure everything was cleaned out. then, john headed out. we said good bye :’( 

i put my laptop and everything back. grabbed the leftover hunan food from the fridge. then i put in an order from sunny sushi to get 2 orders of white rice (to eat with the hunan food)

- walked over to pick up the white rice, then called an uber express pool

- happened to call one the same time dan did. this was like the 3rd time this summer we overlapped and got pooled together LOL. we chatted on the car for a bit. he was telling me about a zombie game he played on campus, it sounded epic and fun but also scary. he got dropped off first and we said good bye

- i went back home, reheated some of the food. chatted with one of the airbnb guests who was visiting and took damien’s room (since he moved out). then i watched the office (not sure which episodes) and crashed by 12am

it was a sad day :( but i’m really glad i got to spend the summer working here. it’s been a great experience. i hope i’ll see some of these peeps again

the end

(finishing writing this up on saturday september 1)

[tenroseforeverandever]

Dear Father Christmas… Chapter 23: December 24, 2038

MASTERPOST

Characters:  Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble; OC Therin Thomson; Javic Thane; Gray Thane; OC Tianza; the TARDIS; OC Abby Tyler-Milne;

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations; life threatening illness; original characters

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: Jackie decides to make Ugly Christmas Jumpers for everyone in the family.

Notes: Wow! Another chapter that got away from me! LOL And boy, did this one put up a fight.

To my betas, @rose–nebula and mrsbertucci: once again, this chapter would not be what it is without you. You gave me inspiration (which I still feel guilty about!) and we had many, many discussions about lots of things to get me through this, including a particularly hilarious discussion about aliens (I’m dying laughing just thinking about it now… I don’t know why I find it so funny, I just do!) Just thank-you, both, for always being there when I need you, and putting up with my whinging. I love you both!

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The prompt I used today was Santa and/or Elves.

I know it’s the middle of April, but since the weather outside (here in Ontario) is still frightful, I don’t feel too guilty about posting part of my Christmas story. I have eight more chapters to go for the full 31 Days of Ficmas. I’m not sure if I will post any more through the year, or just write them and post them at Christmastime in December. I’ll see how it goes… ;D

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2038

Dear Father Christmas,

My mum never does anything by halves. When Jackie Tyler sets her mind on something, she doesn’t hold back. She gets stuck right in; she takes the bull by the horns and beats it into submission. God help anyone or anything standing in her way. Just ask the Doctor…

(On second thought, best not. He might not take it too well, especially not after… well, you’ll see.)

Anyroad, ever since we welcomed my little niece, Abby, into our lives last autumn, Mum’s been on a knitting rampage. She taught herself. She started out with little things like baby mitts and booties, but quickly progressed to sweet little cardigans and jumpers. And she’s gotten really good! My very favourite one was an adorable navy-blue jumper with the words “I LOVE MY DADDIES!” emblazoned across the front in big, pink letters. Tony and Noah (the proud Daddies in question) loved it too, and dressed little Abby in it all the time, until summer came along, and they were forced to admit it was too hot for her to wear it anymore!

This year, sometime around August, Mum’s knitting took a rather… erm… dangerous turn. Stand aside, Molly Weasley: Jackie Tyler announced she was intending to knit jumpers for all of the Tyler clan, and their significant others, this Christmas.

And not just any jumpers: Ugly Christmas Jumpers. 

She only told me and Dad, not wanting to spoil the “surprise” for everyone else. Honestly, we just had to grit our teeth and tell her what a “great idea” it was. It wasn’t like it would’ve made any difference if we’d told her how we really felt. Besides, this way we were likely avoiding the pain of a good hard smack, and months of her patented Jackie Tyler silent-not-silent treatment.

Anyway, it wasn’t like she’d told us about it because she was actually seeking our approval. No, we were to be models, though I rather think guinea-pigs would be a more apt description. Honestly, as Christmas approached, I was seriously beginning to think it would have been better to shut the entire Ugly Jumper Project down in its early stages and endure whatever punishment Mum might have dished out, but at that point, we were in too deep to turn back.

The worst part of the whole process was Mum constantly calling me throughout the autumn to come over to the mansion to try something on, or to bring over jumpers the kids had left behind when they came to visit, so she could compare the sizing with what she was knitting. To be honest it got to be a bit tedious very quickly, but I could hardly say no to her when she was throwing her heart into it. Besides, this way I was able to keep an eye out and nix any design I thought wouldn’t go down very well with the intended recipient.

But, the jumpers were, for the most part, not too bad. They were beautifully designed and made. I was honestly quite impressed. Most of them either featured a cute character like a snowman or penguin or something like that, or they were the traditional Fair Isle design, with rows of little repeating Christmas characters and symbols in garish colours. Regardless of the pattern, all of them had some sort of saying on them, like Joy to the World, ‘Tis the Season, or Let It Snow.

“Soooo, which one is mine,” I asked.

“Never you mind, little madam. For your information, I ‘aven’ started it yet. And even if I ‘ad… as if I would spoil the surprise.”

I suddenly had a horrible thought. Cold dread washed over me. “Erm… what about the Doctor’s…?” Ever since he had revamped her dishwasher to sing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer seven or eight Christmases ago, Mum had been out for revenge. Not that she would admit it. From the look she gave me, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but I knew better.

“Oh, I’m tryin’ to come up with jus’ the right pattern for ‘im. I’ve a couple in mind.”

“Muuuuum, don’t do anything rash, yeah?”

“Oh, honestly Rose, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. I’m jus’ tryin’ to create a little Christmas cheer.”

“Oi! I’m the one stuck in the middle of you and the Doctor and your flippin’ Christmas cheer. Me and Dad!”

She ignored me, of course, and did a complete about-face on the topic. “Oh, speakin’ of your Dad… I got his jumper finished. What d’ya think?” She held up a dark green jumper, with a comical Santa body on it. The pattern stopped at the collar, so Dad’s head would be taking the place of Santa’s head (your head, Santa!) The words Ho Ho Ho were knitted in bold yellow letters below Santa’s feet. “I’ll get ‘im to wear a Father Christmas ‘at and all!”

I had to laugh. “Good luck with that!”

“’E’ll do it if ‘e knows w’at’s good for ‘im!”

“That’ll make for more of your Christmas cheer, then…”

“Oh, don’t ya worry; I’ll make it worth ‘is while.”  She winked at me. “There’ll be plenty of Christmas cheer and bells a jinglin’ around ‘ere.”

“Mum! TMI!”

“Since when ‘ave you been such a prude? I mean, jus’ look at the way you and ‘imself carry on.”

“Yeah, but there are certain things I really, really do not need to know. And that, right there: that tops the list! Look, I gotta run. Dad’s asked me to give a presentation this afternoon.”

“Oh, well, I suppose… Oh, Rose, wait a mo’. I meant to ask: Charlie, is she seein’ someone regular these days? Will she be bringin’ a date for Christmas Eve? I’ll need to make ‘im or ‘er a jumper too, yeah, whoever they are.”

“I dunno, Mum. I never know with that one these days. I worry… a lot.”

“She’ll be all right, sweetheart. It’s jus’ a phase. ‘Sides, she’s nearly twenty years old. I don’t need to remind ya w’at you were up to at ‘er age… gallivantin’ around with that bleedin’ alien. Not that you cared a fig about my worries!”

“Mum…”

“She’s jus’ like you in so many ways, so bloody-minded.”

“That isn’t helping, Mum! I jus’ hope you’re right… about it being a phase. Anyway, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything definite about her bringing a date.”

“An’ in the meantime, I’ll knit an extra generic sort of jumper, jus’ in case.” Mum must have noticed I was about to protest, because she cut me off before I’d even had a chance to open my mouth. “Nah, don’t worry; Lor’ knows, it’s no trouble. After all, Therin might still decide to bring someone, too, and I’ll need one for ‘er. Best to be prepared.”

“All right. Suit yourself. See ya soon. Love ya.” I kissed her on the cheek and headed out the door, the problem of Charlie weighing heavily on my mind.

--ooOoo--

That night as I was standing at the stove making supper, the Doctor came up and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He gave me a lovely kiss behind the ear. It was just what I’d needed. I’d been wound up all day.

“Penny for ‘em? You’ve been doing (might I say) a piss poor job of shielding your emotions.”

“That obvious, was it?”

“Yup.” He squeezed me tighter and gave me another tender little kiss. Even without our telepathic bond, I expect he would have figured out something was wrong. And I really had been sloppy about keeping my worry contained. To be honest, I’d been hoping he’d notice. “You could have just told me if something was bothering you.”

I leaned my head back against his shoulder, giving the sauce another stir. “I know. You’ve just been so stressed lately.”

The Doctor had been called in to help with seventeen frightened and violent Trumhurgi whose ship had crashed in Torquay. They were badly injured, and the Doctor was the only one who had any decent knowledge about their unusual physiology. It had been two months of providing medical care for them, sometimes round-the-clock for several days running. He’d been training Torchwood physicians and nurses as well, but it all took time. In addition, he’d been consulting about repairs on the Trumhurgi ship, and travelling back and forth in the TARDIS, obtaining spare parts and contacting worried family members, carrying their messages and even bringing them back to Earth to visit their recuperating relatives.

I’d been working on the case too, but I was helping out the traumatized humans who’d been caught up in the original crash and the violent, defensive outburst that had followed. Shots had been fired and, by some stroke of luck, there had been no deaths, but it had been a close call. Fortunately, I had a huge, experienced team at my command, so my end of the job had been a lot easier than the Doctor’s.

“I’m all right, love,” the Doctor assured me, as we dished up our supper and sat down at the table. It was the first time in weeks we’d actually been able to eat together. “Besides, by end of this week the last of the Trumhurgi go home in their very own, working-better-than-ever ship! Let’s have tonight be about us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Now spill. What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s Charlie. I’m worried. I didn’t tell you about it because… well, the Trumhurgi… but Javic dropped by shortly after all that happened… with news.” The Doctor’s eyes darkened, and his lips tightened reflexively, but he waited for me to continue. “It seems Charlie has been taking a page out of Javic’s book, recently. She’s been, erm… let’s just say ‘embracing her sexuality’… a lot!”

“And he knows this how?”

“Well he ran into her at one of his favourite… spots.”

I sensed the Doctor’s anger flare, white hot. “He didn’t touch−”

“God, no! In fact, he’s sort of taken her under his wing, so to speak. Made sure she’s stayed away from all the dangerous places.”

The Doctor growled. He looked like he was fighting really hard to keep his emotions in check. His eyes flashed at me. It had been a long time since I’d been a target for the Oncoming Storm. It was properly frightening (and more than a bit thrilling!) “And you… you never thought to tell me? This? About our daughter?”

“You were so busy. And it’s not like−”

He launched himself out of his chair with a roar. “You kept this from me?”

Reflexively, I shrank back into my seat, like some timid little creature. “I’m sorry.”

He began to pace, tugging at his hair. Each time he passed me, he opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. His mental shields were locked in place and impenetrable.

After five long minutes, I decided enough was enough. It wasn’t my habit to let him intimidate me and I wasn’t about to chicken out now; history told me, it was far better to confront him, not let him get away with his bullying behaviour. “Doctor, stop! Enough. Sit down so we can talk.”

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me!”

“That’s was the point of having this conversation, yeah? Sit!”

He did as I asked, shoving his plate away from him, across the table. I grabbed onto his hand before he could move it, pouring my love through our bond. I was gratified when his shields began to give; it was only a little, but it was a beginning.

“Any other information you want to impart?” he bit out.

“Well… apparently she has one of Wilfred’s Vortex Manipulators, so… erm… she’s dancing through time and space.”

“Bloody hell!” He moved to stand again, but I held firm to his hand. He glared daggers at me. “Let go! We have to−”

“Have to what, Doctor? What do you propose we do? You’re not going to go storming in there like the Great Exterminator!”

“Try me!”

“This is Charlie… intimidation has never worked on that kid, and it’s not about to this time, either. We need to be rational and calm and supportive.”

“Supportive! But she’s−”

“I know. And Javic has been keeping an eye on her. He’s making sure she checks in with him, and he assures me she’s doing… fine.”

“Somehow, I don’t imagine Javic’s definition of ‘fine’ is quite the same as ours.”

I had to admit (but only to myself) I’d been thinking much the same way, though I knew Javic: he’d go to the ends of creation to protect any of us. “Hope’s been keeping in touch with her too,” I offered, hoping to appease the Doctor.

“Well that, that is a bloody recipe for disaster!” His anger flared.

Again, I had to agree with him, Santa. For all that she means well, Hope tends to get a bit bossy with her younger siblings. She’s mellowed over the years, but still… My arguments were crumbling around me. “You’re right. Let’s go!”

“What?”

“Let’s go… TARDIS. You. Me. Chat with our daughter.”

“But I thought you said...?”

“Changed my mind.”

--ooOoo--

Charlie, it turns out, was not thrilled to see us. I hadn’t been expecting a joyous family reunion or anything, but I think it would have gone a lot better if the Doctor hadn’t barged up to the bar where she was cheerfully chatting up some green-skinned bloke, waving his psychic paper around like some crazed maniac and bellowing to said bloke that Charlie was under-aged (an outright lie… on that planet) and if he didn’t want to find himself in a whole heap of trouble he’d better scram. He’d then grabbed Charlie by the arm and hauled her out of the building and into the TARDIS.

To say Charlie was furious was the understatement of the year! She was ranting on about how it was bad enough her “puritanical” sister was on her case, but the fact that we were now interfering in her life as well incensed her to no end.  She only finally calmed after I ordered the Doctor out of the TARDIS. I would deal with him later.

In the end, there was very little I could actually do other than let Charlie know we’d both be there for her if she ever needed us. She assured me she was fine: having fun; being careful; and not doing anything too wild (and “bloody hell, Mum, I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you… it’s just wrong…”.) I tried to understand, but I just couldn’t put myself in that mindset, and I told her as much.

“It’s just such a relief to be able to have fun and feel good without any obligations. I have so many obligations, Mum. School, Hand in Hand, work... This makes me feel, well free.”

Oh, Santa, it was then I realized how much that little girl (young woman) had taken on in her young life.

She must have seen the look of horror on my face. She grabbed my hand, and our familial bond snapped into place. She read me like an open book. “Mum, don’t you dare feel guilty. You never, ever pressured me, any of us, to do anything we didn’t want. You encouraged us in the best way possible, you… and Dad.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes at the mention of her father.  “This is just my way of letting go a bit, taking time for me. Can you understand that?”

“Course I can, love. I worry, that’s all. Promise me you’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“And listen to Javic.”

“Muuuuum! I know!”

“Now, since we spoiled your evening with that young man, how about we take you out to supper, yeah?”

“That sounds great! And don’t worry too much about my evening. He was a bit of a tosser, anyway. I was just about to walk out when Dad came barging in like some daft Onidsessi on pep pills. Urrrgh,” she groaned, “promise you’ll never let Dad near pep pills. Can you imagine…?”

“Oh, god, your Dad… he’s out there… Not on pep pills, but you know as well as me, he’s quite capable of stirring up all kinds of trouble without them if he gets a bit bored.”

Thankfully the Doctor hadn’t been stirring up trouble. We found him, pacing back and forth in front of the TARDIS doors. Charlie skipped right over to him, stopping him in his tracks and planting a kiss on his cheek. I couldn’t help but smile. We might all drive one another completely mental sometimes, but there was no lack of love in our little family, and this incident had assured me our children always knew we would be a safe haven for them whenever they needed it.

With all our emotions running high, I never remembered to ask Charlie if she was bringing home a friend at Christmas, so Mum could plan an appropriate jumper. At this point, though, I didn’t imagine there would be anyone special, given that she seemed to be determined to stay away from serious relationships for the time being.

I couldn’t have been more wrong…

Santa, I need to run. We’re all at Mum’s tonight, and the jumpers have finally been unveiled. There were a few… complications. And I’m running interference! I’ll try to explain later.

Blimey! There goes the Doctor, now, and he looks far too happy for anyone’s good, especially considering…  Look, Santa, I gotta go! I’ll finish this letter up later.

--ooOoo--

Santa, I’m back, but I’m not sure where the hell I’m going to begin. A lot of stuff went down tonight. A lot of stuff.

Mum was just itching to hand out her Ugly Jumper parcels to everyone; I couldn’t get her to sit still, she was so excited. We were still waiting for Charlie to arrive and for Tony, Noah, and Abby, too. The Doctor had gone to collect Charlie in the TARDIS. Mum was bouncing off the walls.

Thank goodness my brother and his family decided to show up just after the Doctor left. Entertaining Abby was keeping Mum rather brilliantly distracted, and it meant I didn’t need to entertain Mum. As it turned out, it was just as well Mum was preoccupied, because it gave her time to ease into meeting Charlie’s plus-one which turned out to be a bit of a shock for her, just not for the immediately obvious reason…

The lovely, familiar sound of the TARDIS filled the room about fifteen minutes after Tony arrived. She landed in her customary corner of Mum’s living room, wearing her traditional Blue Box disguise, but topped with festive snow and icicles, and a colourful wreath on her door. The door opened, and the Doctor stepped out, meeting my gaze with raised eyebrows and a little prickle of warning through our bond. He was being very guarded, not sharing any specific thoughts or images, and that made me distinctly uneasy.

Charlie followed him and was tugging behind her what could only be her date for the evening. The creature seemed to unfold itself from the TARDIS. It was very tall and rail thin. Charlie was holding onto one of its appendages, a hand of sorts, at the end of one of its four upper limbs, formed from an assortment of tentacle-like structures. “C’mon Hrau-Ard,” Charlie coaxed. “You’re gonna love my family! Hell, you and Dad are already like best mates!”

“Possibly a bit of an exaggeration seeing as we only met six minutes ago,” the Doctor countered, allowing Charlie and Hrau-Ard to step in front of him, “but he seems like a fine chap, I have to say.”

It took me a moment to get over my shock. Now, let me be clear, Santa, I have no trouble with interspecies relationships… I mean look at my darling husband, not exactly human for all he looks it. It’s just that Charlie, for all her sexual experimentation has never strayed far from standard humanoid partners before... at least according to Javic’s accounts. That’s why I needed to collect my thoughts before I moved forward to greet our new guest.

“Hello,” I smiled up into the creature’s majestic face. And majestic it was, by any standards… beautiful. Trust Charlie to pick a gorgeous date! A long muzzle, with an expressive mouth on the end, swooped up into a spectacular curved crest above it’s head. The crest had two main parts, a longer one below and a shorter part above. Its face morphed gradually from a rich teal colour at the muzzle to a deep indigo at the tips of the crests and was edged with many sensory tentacles and filaments. Two large purple eyes bulged above the snout, and several secondary eyes protruded from either side of the crests, set on stalks which were each adorned with several metallic rings. “I’m Rose Tyler, Charlie’s mum.” I held my hands out, spread open before me in the universal sign of peaceful greeting.

The creature bowed its head to me and dropping Charlie’s hand, held all four of it’s tentacle-tipped upper limbs out, mirroring me. Its fluting voice emanated from the crests. “Christmas greetings to you, Rose Tyler. My name is Hrau-Ard. It is lovely to meet you.”

“He’s male… mostly,” Charlie informed me, “so it’s okay to use ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

Hrau-Ard piped in, bowing his head to me again, “Those pronouns seem to be the most accurate.”

Before I could respond to Hrau-Ard, Charlie impatiently snagged the hand she’d been holding earlier and tugged him past me. “Well, come on in and meet the rest of the family!”

He hooted in surprise, his long tan-coloured tunic billowing and brushing me as he passed. It dropped halfway down his two legs and contrasted spectacularly with the blues and greens of his skin and had an opening in the back through which a pair of wing-like appendages extended. They were bright turquoise and filmy (too delicate to be proper wings) and vibrated as he moved.

I admit, I couldn’t suppress a chuckle at Mum’s incredulous expression as she met him. She passed Abby back to Noah, and looked Hrau-Ard up and down, offering him all the appropriate greetings. She had come a long way since her “bog-monster” days on the Estate and was extremely well-versed in alien diplomacy. After all, she’d welcomed plenty into her home over the years. But, despite all her training and experience, she was still my mum, and I nearly choked when she repeated his name back for clarification: “Howard? Your name is Howard?”

With a low whistle of approval and if the TARDIS was translating properly, amusement, Hrau-Ard inclined his head, his facial filaments bobbing with the movement. “I enjoy the way you say my name, Charlie’s Gran.”

“Oh, just call me Jackie, please. Howard! Of all the names!”

“Is this name of significance to you?”

Mum glanced nervously over to Pete, who was busy grilling Wilfred and Tianza about the medicinal properties of a Gallifreyan plant he was interested in using in a new Vitex drink.  “Oh, ‘e’s jus’ an old mate of mine.”

“Fine fellow! Liked fruit!” the Doctor enthused from the TARDIS door with a broad, toothy grin. “I borrowed his pyjamas and dressing gown once!”

“Well then,” Hrau-Ard bleeped, “I am honoured to be his namesake.”

“Oh, off the two of you go then.” Mum shooed Charlie and “Howard” off to meet Tony, Noah, and Abby. She fixed a glare at the Doctor, who had stepped up behind me. “See, there, Time Lump! A proper alien, tentacles and all! ‘E at least ‘as the decency to look the part.”

“So sorry to disappoint you with my lack of appendages, Jackie (after all, I live my life just to please you),” he snarked back at her. “Fortunately, as it turns out, there’s one Tyler who is rather fond of my one, rather impressive appendage, just the way it is.”

“All right, you two,” I cut off Mum before she had a chance to bite back, “it’s Christmastime, yeah? Peace on Earth. See, the halls are all decked,” I gestured around me, “merry and bright. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

“Ooooh, I’d like to deck ‘is halls, all right…” Mum grumbled.

The Doctor leaned out around me to shoot another barb at Mum. “Is that your resting Grinch face, Jackie, or are you just happy to see me?”

Mum lunged at him, slapping-hand poised and ready. Fortunately for the Doctor, I was still in between the two of them. “Stop!”

“Cuddly as a cactus; charming as an eel… Mrs. Griii-inch” the Doctor sing-songed.

“STOP!” My shout silenced the room, everyone turning to stare at me.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Charlie cooed at Hrau-Ard, “that’s sorta their normal behaviour.”

“Look what you two made me do,” I hissed at Mum and the Doctor. “Be civil! Honestly!” Fed up, I made to leave the two of them and go to the kitchen to pour myself a well-earned glass of wine, when Mum caught me by the sleeve.

“Blimey, Rose!” she whispered at me. “That Howard fella ‘as wings!”

“Yeah, well spotted! And tentacles!”

“No, no, no! The wings! ‘E’ll never fit into any of my jumpers! Never! And ‘e’s so bleedin’ skinny and all. (Blimey, ‘e makes the Doctor look like a sumo wrestler, ‘e does!) The jumper I made would be…”

“Mum, you don’t need to worry. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”

She burst into tears. “But I wanted everyone to ‘ave… and now ‘e’ll be without something from me… An’ it’s Christmas…”

The Doctor stepped up, concerned. He put a gentle hand on Mum’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? If it’s what I said, Jackie… you know I was just taking the mick.”

“No, no, no… nothin’ like that, ya plum.” She patted his cheek and gave him a watery smile. “I’m jus’ disappointed is all.” She excused herself and rushed off in the direction of the powder room.

“What was all that about?”

“Promise you won’t tell her I told you?”

“Oh, you know I can keep a secret, Rose! Besides, I know better than to cross Jackie Tyler by leaking sensitive information. C’mon, give.”

I explained to him about Mum’s dilemma, how she had knitted ugly Christmas jumpers for everyone (his face blanched, probably imagining what she might have created for him) and now because of Hrau-Ard’s unexpected physical attributes, none of the jumpers she had set aside would ever possibly fit.

“Well, I could help,” he suggested. “She’s probably not going to like it much, and I can’t say I’m much of a fan of it myself, but I have an idea that just might work… if she’s willing.”

--ooOoo--

Everyone was so busy with canapes and punch and cocktails they never noticed Mum and the Doctor bundling into the TARDIS and the TARDIS dematerializing. The TARDIS was proud to be showing off her new “Silent Mode”: there was only a little bit of a breeze to indicate she had ever been there. (My little darling.)

They had only been gone for about ten minutes before the TARDIS rematerialized and Mum burst through the doors, beaming and carrying a neatly wrapped parcel: Hrau-Ard’s gift. To my utter amazement, she turned back to stroke the TARDIS’ doorframe, planting a soft kiss on the blue wood. “Thank-you, sweetheart. You’re a wonder, you are.”

The TARDIS hummed in response, a wonderfully joyous sound, as Mum practically skipped over to the Christmas tree to tuck the present underneath.

The Doctor stepped up beside me, closing the TARDIS doors behind him. “They hit it off like a house on fire,” he told me, “the pair of them, thick as thieves. Turns out when your Mum was ill a few years ago, and I put her in stasis, the TARDIS kept her company in her mind; they became fast friends. Brilliant!” He grinned down at me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against him as we followed Mum to the tree. Then he paused, and I glanced up at him to ask why we had stopped. The grin melted from his face. “Although… I don’t much like the idea of the two of them plotting against me behind my back.”

I just laughed and put my head on his shoulder. “Blimey… you’re getting a bit paranoid! How long were you gone in your timestream?”

“Five and a half days, Rose. Five and a half days… with Jackie Tyler on my TARDIS! That’s enough to make anyone paranoid!”

I admit, Santa, I shamelessly started to laugh harder. “How did you ever survive?”

“After the first day, I learned pretty quick to keep my head down. I made myself scarce.”

“Oh, you’ll be all right.” I nudged him with my elbow. “They won’t plot against you…” (…much, I added silently.)

“I heard that!” He arched an irritable eyebrow at me. “Do you realize she’s got her own room, Rose? No, not room, suite! The TARDIS gave her an entire suite of rooms with her own telly and a little galley too!”

“Awww, that’s lovely.” I was warmed through that the TARDIS had welcomed Mum so enthusiastically. My darling husband, however, was another matter. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll protect you from any plotting. C’mon, we better hurry. I don’t think Mum will be able to contain herself much longer.”

Mum was gathering everyone together, so she could hand out her creations, and getting a bit shirty at people who weren’t paying attention, so I dragged the Doctor over by the hand and found a comfortable seat for us.

Content that everyone was present and listening to her, Mum spoke: “I’ve decided to start a new Tyler-family tradition: Ugly Christmas Jumpers! Made by yours truly.” She preened and there was a round of groans from the family and a perplexed hoot from Hrau-Ard. “Oi! They’re not really ugly… that’s jus’ w’at they’re called, yeah. See I’m wearin’ one.” She stood up to show off the jumper she was wearing. It was made of soft, silvery yarn and she had sewn tinsel across the front to form the words “Don’t get your tinsel in a twist,” in cursive script. Of course, she also had tinsel tied around her up-do. She looked sparkly and lovely. My Mum… She’s been through so much in her life, experienced so many odd things, and taken it all in stride; things that would make most people go completely loopy. I love her so much. I was positively chuffed to see her so happy, handing out brightly coloured parcels to all our family.

Dad was the first one to get his present, and he was a real sport about it, donning both his new Santa jumper and the Santa hat Mum had included in his parcel. Everyone burst out laughing when he stood up and smoothed his jumper down over his tummy, and said: “Do you think this makes me look fat? Ho-ho-ho!”

“Oh, sit down, you!” Mum admonished, but I could tell she was pleased as punch.

After that there was great excitement as we all opened our packages. Abby’s jumper was the cutest little thing, with an adorable gingerbread man wearing a Santa hat on a bright, red background. There were miniature gingerbread men down the sleeves and a few white strategically-placed snowflakes. I figure it’ll be a new favourite piece of clothing for her doting daddies!

Javic’s jumper featured a grumpy Santa reading his list of children’s names. The words “I’m at the top of Santa’s naughty list,” were emblazoned underneath. He was ecstatic, claiming it couldn’t have been more perfect. My jumper was… well, glorious in it’s tackiness! And I loved it! Oh, Santa, it was TARDIS blue, and a string of knitted fairy lights trailed all over it. In the middle, the fairy lights formed the words “Merry and Bright” and were lit up with little LEDs. Mum had outdone herself.

Hrau-Ard seemed uncertain what to do with his package, but Charlie soon sorted him out, helping him unwrap the gift. He held the jumper up in front of him, looking around at everyone else trying theirs on. He peered at the design on the front, all of his eyes trained on the bright patterns, and gave a long low hoot.

“Well, are ya goin’ to put it on, then?” Charlie prompted. “Here, I’ll help ya!” Together, the two of them made short work of slipping off Hrau-Ard’s tan tunic and replacing it with the jumper.

Hrau-Ard stood up out of his chair to show his jumper off. It was long, like the undertunic he wore, dropping to mid-thigh, and had perfectly aligned spaces for all four of his upper limbs and his wings.

“The TARDIS helped Jackie with the proper design and style, so it was compatible with his cultural expectations and with his body configuration,” the Doctor murmured in my ear. “She even provided all the yarn, if you can believe that!”

I took a closer look at the jumper. It featured an green-clad elf body on a scarlet background. Like Dad’s jumper, Hrau-Ard’s head took the place of the elf’s head. The words underneath said: “Take an ‘elfie with me!” It was hilarious! We were all in stitches, especially Hrau-Ard, who particularly appreciated the pun in the wording, and was honking with joy, and pulling out his mobile to take ‘elfies with everyone.

I couldn’t help but notice Therin was the only one not laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. He sat on the other side of the room glowering at Charlie and Hrau-Ard and their easy familiarity. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten over Charlie. He still loved her, despite her obvious disinterest in him… at least as a romantic partner. My heart absolutely ached for him as he quietly trudged out of the room, wearing his Fair Isle T-rex jumper.

“I should go check on him,” I whispered to the Doctor.  

“Nah, he needs to work this out for himself, love. He can’t change what’s in his heart. He just needs time to come to terms with it.”

“I hate to see him so miserable though… I wish I could−”

“Oi!” Mum’s shriek of disapproval cut through my thoughts. “Where’s your jumper, then, Doctor?”

The Doctor shifted nervously next to me, and I felt his crushing fear in my mind. He picked at the wrapping paper on the package in his lap.  

“C’mon then, ya big baby! Open it up! I made it special, jus’ for you.”

“That… that’s what worries me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Here, I’ll help you,” I offered. Honestly, Santa, Mum was right. He was being a big baby about it. Coward every time. “Best get it over with, like ripping a plaster off.”

“I don’t like plasters, and I don’t like the sound of your mum saying, ‘special just for you’. That, right there, Rose, sends my entire brain into mauve status!”

“C’mon, how bad can it be?” Even as I said the words, I glanced over at Mum who was watching the Doctor with a piercing, self-satisfied eye, and I braced myself. “Never mind. Just get it over with, yeah.”

By this time, we had the attention of the whole room, and the Doctor in a less-than-convincing act of enthusiasm, tore away the wrapping paper in one fell swoop. He reached into the shredded paper and pulled out the jumper, holding it up gingerly. Santa, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I swear the tears were pouring down my face, and the Doctor was scowling at me.

I better explain. The torso and most of the arms of the jumper were mostly brown. Around the cuffs of the arms, and at certain places over the shoulders were knitted green leaves. Some of them also trailed over the torso and back. When we lifted the arms of the jumper, we found dangling from their undersides none other than beautifully crafted, little knit pears! Pears, Santa, which as I’m sure you know are the fruit the Doctor despises most in the universe… for reasons that have never been very clear to me.

The crowning glory was the gigantic bird sewn firmly to the left shoulder: a partridge.

Mum had given the Doctor a Partridge in a Pear Tree-themed jumper!

Strangely, the bird was not knitted but a small-scale but realistic model, complete with feathers… and that gave me pause for thought, and trust me when I say the thoughts were not optimistic for the Doctor…

“Well, w’at are you waitin’ for?” Mum barked. “Put it on, then?”

“What? You expect me to wear this travesty… this… this pitiable excuse for clothing? Nope. Nope. Nope. Not happening.”

“Oh, just put it on, Dad!” Hope cajoled from across the room. “We’re all wearing them.”

“Yours don’t have pears and a great bloody bird attached, do they?”

“The jumpers are splendid!” Hrau-Ard spoke up with an earnest honk. “This is the most comfortable piece of clothing I have ever owned. And it is humorous too. Doctor, you really should try yours.”

Mum just about melted on the spot at Hrau-Ard’s compliment. “Oh, Howard! You’re such a love. But, you’re just sayin’ that!”

“No, I am sincere, Jackie. It is perfect. I think I like Christmas. And Ugly Christmas Jumpers!”

“Well then, sweetheart, I’ll make you another for next year, yeah?

Howard… I mean Hrau-Ard hooted happily in response, and Mum turned her attention back to the Doctor, by which I mean, she glared daggers at him.

“Oh, all right,” the Doctor conceded, “…if it means I don’t have to listen to any more of your harping,” he added under his breath. He stalked off to the downstairs loo, crushing the jumper in his clenched fist.

“I better go help him out…” I made my excuses and rushed off after him.

I heard Wilfred snickering to Hope, Gray, and Tianza, as I passed them. “Ten quid says they’re off for a snog… or worse.”

Hope just laughed. “No deal, little brother! That’s a sure thing.”

“Oi!” (I’m sorry, I had to protest!) “Enough out of you lot!”

“C’mon, Mum, face it,” Charlie interjected, “you two are an embarrassment.”

“Yeah,” Wilfred agreed, “I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve had to spring the two of you from prison for public indecency.”

“Oi, what’s this then?” Mum leaned in for more tidbits of information, and I cleared out of the room as fast as I could.

Exasperated, I knocked on the powder room door. “Doctor, it’s just me.”

He opened the door to let me in.

“Blimey, we’ll have to watch ourselves. That lot are making wagers on whether or not we shag in here, and they’re telling Mum all about our arrests…”

He groaned, sniffing in disdain. “Bloody brilliant! Christmas, an annual excuse for almost completely unfounded gossip and rumour.”

“Exactly!”

“And then there’s this…” He held up the jumper. “I don’t know why I have to put on this preposterous get-up?”

“Because as I recall, a few years back, you mucked about with Mum’s dishwasher. Now it’s payback time,” I reminded him. “C’mon then…” I helped him pull off the (sexy) red jumper he was currently wearing, and I couldn’t resist running my fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. “Tell you what, though: if you’re a good boy and put the jumper on, I will make it very much worth your while…”

“Oh, yes!”

I dropped to my knees in front of him.

“What? Right now?”

“I’ll make it quick… I know all your secrets.”

He growled at me, his eyes darkening. “I’ll be wanting another round later tonight, Tyler.”

“You think so, do ya?”

“Of course, I’ll be happy to return the favour. I’ll make you come so hard, your screams will be heard all the way to Gallifrey and back! Think you’re up for that?”

I gazed up at him with what I hoped was a seductive smile and stroked him where he was now straining against the front of his trousers. “You’re on! But the real question is, can you manage not to scream? We don’t really need that lot making any more wagers at our expense.”

--ooOoo--

Sorry Santa, got off on a bit of a tangent there… It happens sometimes, as you’re well aware.

So… where was I? Oh, yeah, so fifteen minutes later, we came out of the loo. With my help (holding the partridge), we managed to get the jumper over the Doctor’s head. He looked very, very, extremely not happy, despite my recent… erm… display of affection. “I feel ridiculous!” he gritted out to me.

“It’s just for a few hours, love.” I patted his arm and took his hand for moral support and made bloody sure to conceal my amusement from him.

As we returned to the living room, out the corner of my eye, I was pretty certain I saw some money changing hands, although, to his credit, the Doctor had kept very quiet and I had checked that my hair and make-up were in order. Maybe they were wagering on whether he’d be wearing the jumper… Who knows?

Anyway, I had to agree with the Doctor’s assessment: the jumper did look more than a bit silly, but everyone cheered and laughed at it.  They were having so much fun over it, and the Doctor ended up being a good sport, showing it off, spreading his arms and making silly faces about the “vile” pears dangling from them.

I admit, I kept to myself the fact that I thought there had to be more to it than just a jumper with pears and a big, daft bird. Mum had waited years to get her revenge. She wasn’t about to let him off with something so… simple. I could only wonder what she had planned and when it would happen.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to wonder very long.

It was only a few minutes later when Mum called us all over for supper. She, of course, had place-cards at every setting. The Doctor was sat between Hrau-Ard and Gray, somewhere in the middle of one long side of the table, and Mum and I were directly across from them. Charlie was on the other side of Hrau-Ard; Noah and Tony were sat on either side of Abby, who was in Tony’s old high chair at one end of the table; and Dad was at the other end. Everyone else was scattered randomly around.

As the first course was served, everyone began to chatter to one another. The Doctor seemed quite relaxed, but I couldn’t help noticing the way Mum’s eyes kept fixing on him as he made cheerful small talk to everyone around him. Her lips pursed reflexively every time he stopped talking. She tried a couple of times to get Dad to tell us about something that had happened at work, but he had insisted he didn’t want to talk shop. He was determined to take some time away from it.

“Fine,” Mum muttered under her breath, “just tryin’ to liven up the conversation. Honestly.”

“I thought we were having a lovely time,” I told her. “Everyone’s relaxed and chatting… well except Therin, but you know… What’s going on? You’re up to something. I know you. You never ask Dad about Torchwood.”

“Pfffft, don’t be daft! Course I ask ‘im. And jus’ w’at do you mean ‘up to somethin’’? W’at could I possibly be up to?” With that, she turned deliberately away from me and began speaking to Hope about the progress of the Lunar settlements and asking her how she was finding living on a base. “I don’ know if I could take it, yeah. No fresh air, being cooped up inside all the time. I think I’d lose my mind, yeah.”

The Doctor’s eyes brightened as he responded to her. I was relieved he didn’t end up spewing out something rude about her already having lost her mind years back, which honestly seemed like it would be the natural course of the conversation. Instead, he launched into one of his diatribes about the environmental systems on the bases and how they purify the air.

With a smirk, Mum sat back in her seat to listen.

“…and remarkably, the fundamental design never changes from base to base, year after year. It’ll be centuries before someone gets the bright idea that basic human needs aren’t quite being met by–″ He was cut off when the partridge on his shoulder swung around and flapped its tail across his face. He frowned, spun the bird back around, and began to speak again.

This time the bird nipped his ear.

“Fuck!” he shouted in pain, which of course was mimicked loudly by Abby at the other end of the table.

“You dolt!” Mum snapped. “Now, look what you’ve done!”

“Oi! It’s your blasted bird that bit me! Oi! It just did it again!”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Giggles erupted from the little girl as her daddies tried to shush her, and everyone had a good laugh.

Except Mum (“Don’t be so stupid! It’s not a real bird, ya numpty!”); and the Doctor, who glowered at Mum but (remarkably) held his tongue.

“Mum,” I hissed at her, “it bit him. I saw it.”

“Bit him? Stuff and nonsense!”

The Doctor shook his head at me, and at his telepathic request, I decided not to pursue it any further.

Abby had calmed down again, her new word forgotten as quickly as it had come, and normal conversation resumed around the table as the main course was served. It wasn’t long before the Doctor had dived into a conversation about the most current medical breakthroughs with Gray and with Hrau-Ard, who was apparently training as a physician as well. They bantered back and forth for a short time and then the Doctor launched into a long discourse about the benefits of some sort of medical scanner or other. About a minute in, the bird wheeled around, slapping him in the face with its tail once more, and another few seconds after that, it bit him again.

“Right! Ow! Again, you bloody– Ow!” He dug into his trouser pockets for his sonic, threatening the bird with it. “Now, we’ll sort– Blimey! STOP! Ow!”

I glanced over at Mum who was chuckling away to herself, while everyone else was up, getting ready to help the Doctor. Oh, she knew exactly what was going on. And I had no doubt she had orchestrated it.

Hrau-Ard had stood up and was holding the bird still, his tentacled appendages wrapped around it securely. He was doing a great job keeping it from pecking at the Doctor’s ear, which seemed to happen every time he tried to talk.

Mum scoffed next to me. “Talks far too much, anyway, that one. Maybe this will teach ‘im to keep quiet and not monopolize the conversation.”

“So, this was you, then? How the hell did you...?”

“Oh, sweetheart, it only goes off when ‘e natters on for too long. It resets again after ‘e’s given our ears a bit of a break.”

“But…”

“Oh, I know a few of the folks down in Tech. They were quite ‘appy to do me a little favour, especially after ‘imself barged in there a month or so back and told ‘em they were sequencin’ somethin’-or-other all wrong.”

“He told me about that. It was all wrong!”

“Well, seems they didn’t like ‘is tone… all ‘igh and mighty and ‘I’m so clever’.”

I flopped back in my chair, and just shook my head. I returned my attention to the other side of the table where the Doctor had adjusted the settings on his sonic and was brandishing it at the animatronic bird.

“Oi,” Mum yelped, “don’t you damage my bird.”

“Priorities, Jackie! Your bloody bird is trying to damage me. Do you realize how hard I had to concentrate to get these ears… not to mention this hair?”

“It is really great hair,” I agreed.

“Oh, shush you!” Mum shot me a scathing look.

“Right then! Allons-y!” Heedless of my mum’s protests, the Doctor activated the screwdriver pointing it at his feathered attacker, and several things happened all at once.

The strangest screeching sound reverberated from Hrau-Ard’s crests in harmonics that mimicked the sonic. He lost his grip on the bird and doubled over, two of his appendages flying to his crests. “This tickles! This tickles! I think I am about to…”

The bird, freed from it’s confines, resumed its attack on the Doctor’s ear, feathers flying everywhere. The Doctor, fumbled his sonic screwdriver, caught it again, and made a quick adjustment to the frequency, constantly yammering and threatening the bird and Mum, not quite making the connection that if he just shut up, the stupid thing would stop pecking him. Finally finding an opening, he pressed the tip of the sonic to the bird’s breast, activating it with a triumphant “Ha!”

Hrau-Ard had resumed his composure once the sonic had stopped but started making that bizarre sound from his crests again once it was reactivated. His facial filaments were absolutely trembling. “It is happening again. I am going to… I am going to…″

The sound seemed to amplify the effects of the sonic. The hapless partridge stopped its attack, but its entire body began to pulse as the wailing hoots from Hrau-Ard’s crest intensified. Everyone was covering their ears, except the Doctor who had turned off the sonic, and was watching in horror, from the corner of his eye, the ominous pulsing of the bird on his left shoulder.

“I am going to–″ Hrau-Ard shouted, and his crests shrieked in a final eruption of noise, and the bird’s body suddenly exploded with a massive blast, sending feathers, sparks, and electronic gizmos everywhere.

“–sneeze,” Hrau-Ard hooted into the silence that had fallen over us all.

A long moment later, just as everyone was catching their collective breath, the Doctor yelped, as cinders from the explosion caught in his hair, causing it to smoulder and burn. “Ow, ow, ow! Blimey! My face! My hair!”

Abby started howling; everyone started shouting; I leaped across the top of the table to get to my poor husband; and Gray, the only one maintaining his composure, picked up a pitcher of ice water and dumped it over the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor sat there, completely stunned, as water dripped from his fringe into his face.

“Oh my God! Doctor!” I pulled his damp body against me, hugging him tight. “Are you all right?” I pulled back from the hug to look him in the face. I took in the angry red welts, the burned hair and…

He must have seen my astonishment. “What? What is it?”

“Your… your left eyebrow. It’s… it’s gone…”

“What? What?” His fingers flew to his brow, where the hair had been singed away. “WHAT?”

“And some of your hair… just up the left side…”

“Jackie Tyler!” he bellowed. He made to get up from his chair, but Gray shoved him back into it.

“Sit still! You have burns. I’ll need to use the dermal regenerator on them.”

“It won’t bring back my eyebrow, though, will it? My left eyebrow too. It’s my most expressive one,” he added wistfully.

Mum had come rushing around the table. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry! That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ll cut your hair for ya, real nice. And your eyebrow will grow back again in no time, I expect.”

“Yeah, I suppose it will,” he said relaxing a bit. “And more expressive than ever! Makes you think, what would I ever do without eyebrows?” He shuddered at the thought. “And, Jackie, I have to admit, you couldn’t have known that the sonic would resonate with Hrau-Ard’s crests and make the bird explode like that. Though, I have to say, good riddance!”

“It is all my fault. I must apologize profusely,” Hrau-Ard hooted, his wings fluttering.

Mum protested, “Oh, no, Howard!”

“Nah, she’s right, Hrau-Ard,” the Doctor reassured him, “don’t be silly! But now I know not to use my sonic at that frequency in your presence.” He beamed. “Besides, what fun would Christmas be without a little bit of unexpected excitement?”

“At least there aren’t any blinkin’ killer Christmas trees, yeah?” Mum pointed out, as Gray finished up with the dermal regenerator.

“Oh yes! Too true. Looking on the bright side, Jackie. Do it while you can, because you know what…?” He bounded out of his chair, tore the remnants of the hapless partridge from his shoulder, and plucked the Santa hat from Dad’s head. He shoved it over his wet, scorched hair and with a wicked grin spreading over his face, he sang: “Jackie Tyler… you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout. I’m telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town.”

Oh, God, Santa, the look on Mum’s face. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare…”

“And Santa isn’t happy, Jackie. Really, you better watch out…” He skipped away out of the dining room, heading directly for the kitchen.

Mum took off after him. “You stay away from my appliances. You’re a bleedin’ hellion, you are,” she shouted.

Hrau-Ard honked in alarm and pulled Charlie next to him, wrapping his tentacles around her.

“Don’t worry, love,” Charlie sounded resigned, “you get used to it once you’ve been around this crowd long enough. We’re all a bit mental, but we all love one another.”

So, there it is, Santa. A typical Tyler-Noble Christmas!

I spent quite a while trying to intercept the Doctor before he did any damage to Mum’s kitchen... and other things. I actually found him mucking about in her en suite. Not sure if he managed to do anything before I caught up to him and got him back home, but at least I got to him before Mum did. Like I said before, he looks far too pleased with himself, despite the missing eyebrow and the singed hair. He must have left some sort of surprise behind for Mum. No doubt I’ll hear about it soon enough.

And right now, I’m just waiting for him to “return the favour” he promised me in Mum’s powder room earlier, something about making me scream so loud I’d be heard all the way to Gallifrey. He’s just spending an awful long time in the loo... probably trying out my eyebrow pencils, if I know him. Maybe later I’ll take the TARDIS out, go back a few days, and get him some of his own for his stocking before everyone gets up tomorrow morning.

Happy Christmas, Santa. Give my love to all. Sorry for going off on a bit of a tangent earlier. I was just lying here, waiting for the Doctor and thinking… Oh, I reckon you’re used to it by now, yeah. There’ve been a few tangents over the years and I haven’t had a lump of coal yet. But, just saying, if you feel the urge to leave a lump of coal in the Doctor’s and my mum’s stockings, by all means, go right ahead! I’m all for it!

                                                                                                                                 Love, Rose

[bluebirdzykaysies]

5.14 - day before momma leaves

Goddamnit I hate to admit it but I’m already thinking and crying like a baby in my head once my mom leaves me to go back home to sf. the feeling is mutual like melissa said cause she’ll probably be just as a wreck and all this time I’ve been spending with her, I’m cherishing even more. I’ve never felt like this and Victoria said the same thing; expecting that while I transition. But everyone needs to experience this. I DO, especially. I need the time away for a bit to miss them and I already miss those interactions with my brothers too of just lounging in the living room watching NBA games all night, or youtube videos like its judyslife or ustheduo.

Our lives have changed already and itll be so hard as I am bawling my eyes out, sitting in my newly mounted dining table my mom and I put together, facing outwards my window with the Chicago sun, beaming through at a whopping 54 degrees.

This is my life now, I will be on my own and making decisions on my own. Ive told a few folks that I’m sad yet annoyed my moms time here was a bit much. But I know it was perfect for what it is. We’ve been tired each and everytime, her actions speak volumes and our conversations arent as deep as I want, but I know this quality time was one that will impact my life forever. Even though I hate to admit it or will say this to her face. i love my mom. so much, she means so much to me and my brothers. The amount of things she does unselfishly aka drive my freaking car with just her and hector for 5 days cross country. do what she did to make me help settle, there is no one like her. and I will forever appreciate her and love her.

She is opinionated and still felt like I couldnt decide for myself but this will be also a time where I speak up and use my voice. Saying NO.

ugh the tears keep falling down but some highlights from this past week were:

- Silly vlog videos that I actually may put together when I get the time

- 5/6; arrived - went to container store to buy my elfa shelving for my closet. Super nice lady that worked there Hector spoke to. Went to world market to check out their furniture and standing mirrors. TJ Maxx/HomeGoods and picked up some bathroom essentials, shower curtain, mats and beddings, Facetimed Yan/Ronz/Brent+Rick at night (10pm CST) 

Mom stayed with Hector at Courtyard Marriot til Saturday 5/8. So I wanted to stay at the apartment for the first time alone and enjoy the moment and soak it all in. Parking at my garage alone, randomly waking up to the SUNRISE at 545am and just being in awe of my new city... I could just cry

Didn’t get my wifi set up yet so the struggle was real a bit. The air mattress we got from costco has been tough to sleep on but eventually Ill get my mattress. Just have been torn with my furniture not being here since everything was rushed and happened so quickly. Learnings from the move thus far:

-Write a damn list, I DID NOT. Aka thats why a bunch of junk and unnecessary things were with my mom and hector in the car. All couldve been bought here. I ocouldve taken more clothes and shoes

-Alot of my clothes aka my favorite jean jacket and pink/mauve henley was left at home. My running shoes - I decided not to prioritize idk fucking why *rolls eyes* and alot of my other valuables. Brendan is nice enough to ship it. Its not worth to buy a RT flight and go there and take it all back with me... no. :( I would though tbh if I was in LA. lol make couple trips but I’m far enough that its like.... whewww is it worth but one day I will come back and visit. For now, its slated for Oct

5/7 Friday; I had it off started the day late at 12pm and booked my mom, hector and myself tickets to the skydeck. my mom was HILARIOUS, she was scared at first and thought it would be a huge platform to see under but once she saw its just a small piece of glass over 105 floors, it wasnt THAT bad. Her and hector are hilarious together and annoying a little LOL. but I guess they’re cute

Went to Wrigley Field while there was a game and that was an experience. Fans at the top of their houses, Security all over the block, streets closed, fans everywhere. Its such a historical building in the middle of a freaking neighborhood so it made itself unique vs att/oracle park being so secluded down in mission bay.

RPM Steak for dinner in River North. Valet’d the car and Hector treated us to a Missouri Steak? it was bomb though but I wanted Medium and he wanted medium rare... cream of spinach, mac and cheese, asparagus and for dessert topped with a Baked Alaskan. Whatever that is. (It was good) and my first time trying it.. me and mom. Our waitor was a nice lady in her 30s, gave me tori kelly vibes. Then another worker stopped by our table who looked filipino for sure (Rox’s ex Dennis look a like) but I already for got his name. He told us how he lived in West Town too and would eat at this bomb restaurant called “Uncle Mikes” maybe the ‘superstar’ of chicago :) hectors jokes were a bit much saying climbing up the coconut tree and asking if he can make halo halo in the back for dessert. No sir....

5/8 Saturday; Plan was to visit Macys downtown to check out furniture at around 930am. But they werent open til 11am. We checked out the Bean at Millenium Park and my mom got to see all the tulips and flowers. We waited in line for a while at Stans Donuts since Wildberry was just too WILD and packed, so we walked a block down and had ourselves some coffee and donuts for the day. After we headed to Macys and were greeted by a tall man name Hilary. he’s THEEE BEST. he knew we didnt have to buy anything from him at macys but he’s such a sales guy and has been in this business for so long that he kept tlaking about Quality of furniture and making yourself feel comfy and at home. Being in a small apt, or living out alone for the first time, separating each section once winter hits so you’re not bored out of your mind in the small place. He was so friendly and nice, I took his business card. Went to Ashley’s on the way to the airport and got gas. Feel in love with the small dinette table they had but the one I’m sitting on now I feel like is just perfect. Soletren couch will forever be out of stock and I will never let this go :( honestly dont know how itll fit in my door but i guess i will settle for something reasonable and decent in size

IVE BEEN SPENDING SO MUCH MONEY. . . . . . . I cant even. I got paid today so todays check will be sponsoring all of my credit card funds. Gna just pay it off in full so I dont have to deal with it. But going forward a budget will be set. and luckily some of the things I bought work can reimburse so I’ll do expenses sunday perhaps.

Saturday evening after dropping off hector, we did errands in the suburbs and went to a walmart. a bit ghetto lookin but its fine. Decided to go to costco after but had an incidentn with this white man who bumped my car and didnt apologize. I was going to say something but we’re so far out in the suburbs Idk what the hell he wouldve done to me. And if they’re racist out there. took the long way home and it was prob not through the safest neighbor hoods but my mom didnt have to know since traffic on the freeway was just ALOT. omg and the roads are just so bumpy, my poor car. Becca said she has a guy at a shop her family always goes to so hopefuully I wont need him but just nice to know the option is there.

Went to the costco up by roscoe village and bought food and more essentials like medicine i have a whole pharmacy.  again throughout all this, my mom is the MVP. I wouldve been like, Ill go get it when I need it vs mom stocking up beforehand. We ended up setting my living room with a japanese style seating using my elfa shelving as the table and a towel over it. Leftovers from RPM for dinner and ribs/salad from costco. (I keep eating, and we’re not walking alot so....... I’m def gaining wait and will need to lose this asap)

I’ll be back more to cover this past week; mothers day, ikea, seafood city, hanging with becca, azul mariscos, drunk at ross and dollar tree, pants falling (mom) unbuttoned pants cuz we’re so ‘stuffffffed’ hanging with the boys via facetime cause I do miss them :( I need to havea schedule with them.

kk toodles. time to go back to work. no more crying (maybe) then an architecture tour with my mom <3 and dinner at a steakhouse at MJ’s on Michigan Ave BYeeeee

[gifsbysimplysonia]

End of Day Sh!t Post - August 9, 2019

Today was SO DEAD at work that my co-worker and I left at lunch time so we could come on and work the rest of the day from home lol. We were like “If we do it together, less likely anyone will say anything to us.” And if they do ... I mean, there’s hardly anyone in the office on Fridays (which is part of the reason I like it; it’s SO LOUD where I sit otherwise), they have been keeping the office FREEZING in the summer time and we sit right under a vent, so we were both frozen today. We saw no point and our job duties aren’t dependent on us being in the office soooooooooooooo. Hopefully nobody notices or says anything cuz it doesn’t seem like anyone does when 1 of our co-workers literally disappears from her desk for 2 or 3 hours at a time, or another of our co-workers works several days from home with no valid reason (cuz we are only allowed a certain # of days at home; like I have earned 2). 

I went and got lunch and went to the post office when I left the office, got home, logged back on and it was still DEAD AS A DOORNAIL in terms of cases (not) coming in so I signed into a Personal Branding & Social Squad seminar. I’m NOT a sales person so I don’t need this at all as far as I’m concerned, but I figured, nothing else was going on. 

At one point, they asked us all:

And the first answers are supposed to be in terms of your job, but THEN you are supposed to consider it on a personal level. And, like, nothing I could think of for myself as a person was positive? LOL

What am I known for? Being a spazz, being too much, being loud

What am I passionate about? Pro-wrestling, drag queens, Chris Evans/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan, writing fan fiction - like, those are NOT the right answers lol

What are my strengths? .......... *crickets* Actually, I think I’m pretty good at being supportive? BUT ... I’m not sure that translates to a professional environment. Cuz if I don’t trust you as a teammate? I am SO doing the bare minimum for you because you’ve already let me down or  made me look bad. But the people who show me they are willing to learn, work with me, and trust me at what I do? I kind of spoil them and go above and beyond cuz it’s like, “Oh ok, you do for me so anything you need, I got you.” Whereas personally, if you’re a friend, I’ma have your back REGARDLESS. I honestly can’t think of another strength, though. Like, professionally, I am attentive to details, I am fast at what I do, I work hard, and all of that is reflected in my case ratings, thank gosh. But personally? I have never felt like I’m a strong PERSON. I feel like I’m just out here existing, using oxygen and taking up space. I don’t know that I have any VALUE beyond what I do at my job, y’know? Like, at least when I’m working, I am useful in some capacity. When I’m just being me? Not so much.

What’s my communication style? Loud & obnoxious? At work, we had to get assessed about what style we are, and my results shocked the hell out of me:

Driver

Hard-working and ambitious, drivers tend to be the group leaders who value getting the job done with excellent results.  Drivers are apt to be decisive, competitive, hard driving and good at delegating to others.  They like to be where the action is and are likely to enjoy taking risks.  Their focus is on winning, being successful and making things happen.  They need options and prefer it when others are direct.

On the downside, they can be pushy, demanding, dominating, tough and exclude others from decision-making.  Under stress, they become autocratic and order others around.

I would categorize myself as:

Analytical

Quick to think and slow to speak, the Analytic person values accuracy in the details and likes to be right.  This is a person who plans thoroughly before deciding to act, is persistent, highly organized, cautious and logical.  The Analytical prefers to work alone and has a tendency to be introverted.

The Analytical person is focused on process, tasks and doing things the right way.  They prefer a rational approach, logical thinking, solid documentation and careful planning.  The down side is that they can be critical, picky, perfectionistic and stubborn, as well as indecisive.  Their tendency under stress is to avoid others.

Analytical is SO me, just even in life! But for whatever reason, the questions I answered resulted in me being a Driver, which I think is BS. 

What do I want to be FOUND for? I’m not sure I understand this question. Like, if someone Googles me, what category do I wanna come up under? I’m not sure about this one. Ideally, in a perfect world, I’d want to come up under “writing” or “writer” but that’s not how things are. 

Then they started going through setting up a good LinkedIn Profile and I’m not on there so I tuned out after “You need a professional headshot.” This is all stuff I’m sure I SHOULD pay attention to in case I end up in the job market again because, as this seminar said, all first impressions seem to be digital nowadays. But like ... I’m a mess in person and online so it fits that those would match I guess lol. 

I hate self reflecting or analyzation cuz I can never come up with overwhelming positives so I’m always left feeling wanting, y’know? Why is it so much easier to be hard on ourselves than to think or believe anything positive/complimentary?

Does anyone else flat out PANIC when they get a new follower on here? I think the goal for MOST is to gain followers to reach a wider audience, but not for me cuz I have nothing to say or nothing significant to share. So when someone starts following me and it’s not just a porn blog ... I’m like, oh NO someone got DUPED by something I did or said and now they are going to follow expecting, like, something of quality! And when it never happens, they are going to be so upset they wasted the time!! :( 

One person from my past told me getting involved with me was false advertising and I just ... that has always been a net around my mind and heart. I don’t want to EVER unintentionally “fool” anyone EVER AGAIN. That’s why I try to broadcast it everywhere I can:

And most people think it’s a joke, but I’m just trying to be as HONEST as possible so y’all can hit that unfollow and not waste your time or be disappointed in any way. I, like, have nothing to offer so if you came here looking, I’m so sorry! 

[moldybreadguys]

how the dillyio did I not notice this survey I was tagged in almost a month ago

@lunatics-on-the-grass was kind enough to tag Danny V in a survey, and now he must answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people some cool folk!

THE LAST:

1. Drink: almost a full gallon of milk

2. Phone call: the homie Cory, who needed to know about an irresponsible thing I did last Monday

3. Text message: eh Stevie!, who I’m gonna be collabbing with on a song soon

4. Song you listened to: the theme from The Journeyman Project cuz it’s soooo good

5. Time you cried: Saturday night, in the midst of a very bad emotional night

HAVE YOU:

6. Dated someone twice: yes. 10/10 do not recommend

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: yeppers

8. Been cheated on: yupperoni

9. Lost someone special: oh yeah

10. Been depressed: Yes | Definition of Yes by Merriam-Webster

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: several times, typically means imma be hungover for the next day lol

LIST 3 FAVOURITE COLORS:

12. blues

13. reds

14. silvers

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: very yes

16. Fallen out of love: it’s been a long time since I’ve felt like I was in love with someone, bub

17. Laughed until you cried: not this year

18. Found out someone was talking about you: wouldn’t be surprised

19. Met someone who changed you: several actually. one in particular hurt me really badly, but another has been a real good boon for me

20. Found out who your friends are: to an extent

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: once

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: a decent majority of them, though there are those that know me only by association

23. Do you have any pets: I wish. my apartment woulda charged me a deposit fee if I had and my parents won’t let me have one now, sooo

24. Do you want to change your name: nahh, I like being dan vallerand

25. What did you do for your last Birthday: read the entry for 7/2 here, but on my actual birthday I visited parents, met up with a girl from Patterson at a coffee shop (but it didn’t go well) and cracked open many cold ones with the boys later that night

26. What time did you wake up: 7am, cuz lol, busy morning today

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: succumbing to sleep deprivation

28. Name something you can’t wait for: honestly, a better life where I’m actually successful with my music, people like me, I have a better job, my own condo, and am with someone that genuinely cares about me and won’t disappear after 3 months

29. When was the last time you saw your mom: like a few mins ago

30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: my issues with self-doubt

31. What are you listening right now: the many song fragments rumbling about in my head

32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: several, lol

33. Something that is getting on your nerves: I don’t want to talk about it publicly

34. Most visited Website: idk, I never really pay attention to that

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME

35. Mole/s: one big one, but it’s been there forever

36. Mark/s: just heart surgery scars

37. Childhood dream: having friends, siblings, a bigger family, fitting in with classmates better, etc

38. Haircolour: a light brown

39. Long or short hair: eh. I don’t look good with short hair

40. Do you have a crush on someone: i doubt she feels the same

41. What do you like about yourself: my singing voice for sure!

42. Piercings: nah, i’m cool

43. Bloodtype: I genuinely don’t know but I can say I can’t give blood due to being on blood thinners

44. Nickname: Danny is most folk’s preferred one

45. Relationship status: permasingle, your choice of 7″ or 45

46. Zodiac: cancer

47. Pronouns: he/him

48. Favourite TV Show: classic Doctor Who for life, son

49. Tattoos: if I wasn’t terrified of needles then I’d have something to say here lol

50. Right or left hand: righty-tighty

51. Surgery: four heart surgeries and my wisdom teeth removed

52. Hair dyed in different color: nah, I’d look goofy af in differently colored hair

53. Sport: I like watching pro wrestling and the Raiders when they have a good season, but that's about it

55. Vacation: lol, wage slaves can’t afford nice vacations

56. Pair of trainers: i’m not one to wear those tbh

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: it was quesadilla night last night and damn son was it gooooood~

58. Drinking: milk

59. I’m about to: go eat brekkie and collab with some buddies today!

61. Waiting for: things to go right for a change

62. Want: to have a better everything, honestly. a better job, a better circle of friends, etcetera

63. Get married: it’d be nice someday, but i’m very sure the next time i’ll ever end up in a relationship is a very long time form now

64. Career: successful musician with burgeoning writing life

WHICH IS BETTER

65. Hugs or kisses: hugs

66. Lips or eyes: eyes, I guess?

67. Shorter or taller: not important

68. Older or younger: also unimportant, cuz to me how you talk to me defines that for me

70. Nice arms or nice stomach: son of unimportant

71. Sensitive or loud: i’m leaning more towards sensitive, but not too sensitive

72. Hook up or relationship: relationship, all the way. hooking up makes me uncomfortable

73. Troublemaker or hesitant: a mix of the two

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a stranger: nope, not my sorta thing

75. Drank hard liquor: a handful of times

76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: i have lost plenty of sunglasses in my time and it’s always thE BEST ONES O:

77. Turned someone down: yeah, a handful of times, and typically cuz i feel like it’s being forced on me

78. Sex in the first date: no, cuz if you do it too soon things get weird

79. Broken someone’s heart: i’m hoping not, but I prolly have at least once

80. Had your heart broken: *finger guns* ayyyy

81. Been arrested: nope

82. Cried when someone died: yeah

83. Fallen for a friend: yeah, several times. sometimes it bites me in the ass

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: it varies day by day

85. Miracles: also varies, but i’m more apropos to call certain events miracles instead

86. Love at first sight: not necessarily, but if someone is very much like myself i’m more apt to connect sooner

87. Santa Claus: the age of clausability was passed a long time ago, friends

88. Kiss on the first date: deffo, if things go well and lean that way

89. Angels: *shrugs*

OTHER:

90. Current best friends name: i have a rotating circle of friends, but usually it’s the people that talk to me the most. permanent ones include kenny, phil, and colton for sure though

91. Eyecolour: hazel eyes, you’re standing close to me~

92. Favourite movie: i don’t have a specific fave, so let me give you several of them - ghostbusters 2, xanadu, blues brothers, army of darkness, scary movie 2, etc *finger guns* letsa go @bilbao-song @nightingalemillo @deschaines @psi-groovin @veillees @misterkingdom @thinkingfilthy @whatdoesfriendmeantoyou @ihideinmymusic @xshot-in-the-dark