#unprompted checkin

[missmarvelnerd]

It's weird. I hate texting because I'm such an expressive texter that I feel like I can effectively communicate my demeanor through the screen. I guess not.

Just once, I'd like to be checked in on

[apuppetmuseum]

Headcanon time! Is Arlan the sort of person that falls asleep quickly or does it take him a while? Does he sleep soundly, or is he easily woken?

Unprompted | Always Accepting!!!

ran to make an icon for my boy but!!!

He tends to fall asleep quickly, but how often he falls asleep is the more important factor. He understands the importance of getting enough sleep (after a lecture to from Asta when they were younger), but he finds it difficult to even feel tired until he checks absolutely everything in the space station at least twice before dismissing himself for the day.

Arlan is woken up easily, as he needs to be ready for anything any time, which is both a blessing and a curse. He doesn't feel comfortable falling asleep in certain areas as a result. Like even his room aboard the space station isn't the best place for him to sleep, because people can be running around and come and get him for minor things they don't know what to do with (because we all know those coworkers that refuse to look into how to do something and instead just go to the boss about it first).

The places you can catch Arlan sleeping are Asta's office in the Base Zone (the locked room in the right corridor), One of the Gallery of Shadows (Curio rooms) in the Storage Zone, then either the unused meeting room or the corner near the Herta doll in the Supply Zone. (he does get upset when people suddenly start using that meeting room, thanks trailblazer). Though if he's truly exhausted and if its quiet enough, you can see him falling asleep at a desk in the master control zone.

Him and Asta are seen together during early hours / non busy hours alot. Which isn't an unusual sight, until you notice how exhausted they both are. They tend to do their final checks together to make sure neither of them miss anything because of their exhaustion and head to sleep in their respective areas. People know not to disturb Asta, so she can get away in sleeping in her room - Arlan pretends to go to his room (which is near or right next to hers) and then goes to one of his other sleeping areas once he changes out of his uniform. Asta can't really get on him anymore about not sleeping enough because she barely sleeps herself - but Arlan makes sure to wake up before her and starts on checking up on some of her tasks for her by the time she's awake so he can fill her in and then go do all of his morning checkins.

[dearmailman]

just wanted to let you know your blog makes me very happy and i hope your having a good day and if your not i hope it gets better^^

Hello neighbor!

Thank you very kindly! I’m so glad you enjoy my blog, love! Making people happy is all I could hope for.

I am having a mostly nice day - asides from all the fireworks outside. Independence Day is not a good time for me and my system. I barely understand the holiday as is, and knowin’ I have to hear unprompted loud bangs all night for weeks ain’t helping!

It’s night where I am, so let’s you and I hope for a kinder day tomorrow. Thanks for checkin’ in on me, dear!

Love,

Eddie💌

[just-kiss-me-you-fool-hehe]

jasmine

makes me feel loved in a way that i haven't felt before with a friend

i've known so much friendship love and i've been so lucky

to have found people i laugh with at 5 at all times, people who i can cry with, people who i keep up with despite distance, people

but she makes me feel loved in a different way, the random facetimes, the fun vlogs and voice messages, the thoughtfulness around hosting things and connecting people, the checkins, the thoughts on random things we've talked about

she mentioned something that i had said over a year ago !!! i didn't think she would remember that but she does

she thinks about my problems unprompted and offers her thoughts and help, like she's an active participant in my life

she makes it feel like friendship isn't a burden but an easy connection that's fun to maintain

she says the things i think but never say out loud, like new york makes me need people and also that she feels good when she's needed that's so fucking true and i've never said that before !!!

yesterday when i was eating dinner and chatting with her on the phone she felt like she was right here

she's knows when to turn off the phone even if it's uncomf in the short term to preserve the long term health of the relationship

she reminds that she can come help me with mundane tasks and just be here while i get handy work done around the house, i feel like i don't have to ask her for her help, she just makes it seem like such little to be a supportive person in my life and i know that it takes effort but the effortless feeling is what makes is ~feel~ so easy

it's like that grief video says of not asking if someone wants you to come over just saying you're coming over with food, we don't have to hang but we can

i love that we connect on our desire to analyze people just because that's such a fun thing to do to find what makes people tic

and i love that she always specifies her use of weird as unexpected

it makes me feel so optimistic about the world

that you can go a long time in your life and still find people you connect with in different ways

she makes me grateful to have such a friendship and inspires me to be a better friend to others in my life

lyn said to me, you're a 100/10 human i luv being your friend you fill my cup and make me want to get a bigger cup! that's how i feel about her

i used to feel uncomf about not reciprocating with lyn even tho i love her in a different way, but we are all in different places and doing different things i think it's all fine!!!

omg i really do think the reason i have become okay with confrontation is bc i feel comfortable that things will be okay !

that's a good fucking feeling

[hirako5hinji]

[ UNPROMPTED | ALWAYS ACCEPTING ] 

@codename-freya​ asked:

"Taicho?" She asked softly, concern in her eyes as she walked into his office. He'd been quiet lately and she had first thought giving him space would be beneficial. Kaisa wasn't sure what was going on, but the space seemed to become concerning to his Fifth Seat. Instead of coffee, she had brought him some tea. She wouldn't force him to talk, but she would hold space for him if he needed.

"Tell me if you want to be alone, if not you don't need to talk if you aren't up for it. I just wanted to check in on you," she offered up the mug of tea for him and gave a gentle smile.

          It is not surprising in the least that his shift of mood lately has been detected by his men; this is what they are trained to do - to be constantly observant. And his behavior has been considerably out of the norm these days; even the most oblivious member in the division can tell that something is not right. Suddenly, he is working like a demon. He hasn’t left the division in what seems like an entire fortnight. And Hiyori, who used to frequently swing by his office every now and then, has not been seen for a very long time. Combined, all of these irregularities are beginning to paint a worrying picture. 

          Thus, it really is not surprising in the least, that some of his officers are starting to come forth to express their concern for their Captain. It is wearying, having to field the questions repeatedly and assure his subordinates that he has not gone off the deep end...but he gets where they are coming from. He gets it, because after what happened with their previous captain, their nervousness is understandable. He cannot let them down...and he is not at his limit yet, anyway. He is still hanging on. Perhaps not in his best state of being, but he is still functioning. 

               “ ...Thanks. ” He is usually not one for the drink, but the weather is beginning to cool, and the heat emanating from the ceramic cup is comforting. It warms up his cold fingers and he takes a slow sip of the aromatic brew, silently marveling over its soothing properties, reminiscent of this gentle kindness from his Fifth Seat. Shinji’s distracted, distant gaze softens, and he nods at his companion. 

               “ I can’t stop ya if ya wanna stay, but it’s gettin’ late. Yer still healin’ from some injuries, aren’t ya? ” This officer of his is always getting into fights way over her head...but at the same time...he cannot and will not stop her. This is her way of growing. He refuses to get in the way of that...but he is always silently watching over her. “ I ‘preciate yer checkin’ in...and I’m fine. Well, at least ‘fine’ as in you don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. ” 

          He gives her a small smile, raising the mug in a faintly self-deprecating salute, and also an amiable dismissal. His tone, as gentle as her tea. “ Yer captain hears yer concern. Go and rest; I’ll see ya tomorrow. Good night, Kaisa. ”

[flyingblackhawk]

Pasta Clintasha fic 1,977 words - After the debrief, Clint drives home. He troops into his apartment, strips off his clothes, and tries to shower off the last week. It’s been punishing, and he falls into his bed without much of a thought for anything but his soft pillow. When he wakes, he goes about his day as he normally does when he gets a day off. He eats, watches movies, and naps. He sends Natasha a checkin text. She’s fine. Good. It’s two days before he notices anything is off. The mission was bad - worse than a lot of their previous exploits, and he’s considering going to see the SHIELD shrink. Natasha seems okay, but when he sees her at a meeting at HQ, she looks pale and tired. Clint shakes it off. She’s probably not sleeping well. He knows the feeling. 

It’s not until he drops by her place to check on her that he realises something is actually wrong. Her kitchen is spotless, and there is no food to be found. He chalks it up to post-mission takeout, but there are no containers anywhere. Natasha is in the living room, curled up on the couch. She wakes from her doze when he enters.

“Hey,” she mumbles.

“Hey,” he returns. “You okay?”

Dumb question. She nods, like she always does, but he’s not convinced. She’s still pale, and his mind is starting to connect the dots between the lack of supplies in her kitchen and the way her fingers are trembling as she brushes her hair off her face.

“Nat,” he says, his voice gentle, “when did you last eat?”

“Earlier,” she says, waving him off. She knows he’s onto her, and gives him a sharp look that has no real edge to it.

“When? What did you have?”

“I had a coffee a couple of hours ago.”

“Coffee doesn’t count. When did you last eat a meal?”

She huffs. “I don’t know. Bosnia.”

“What?”

“Clint-”

“That was three days ago, Nat.”

She looks at him, as if thinking of something to say. She clearly draws a blank, and Clint sighs, his hand landing on her leg. “You’ve got to eat,” he says, lamely. It’s not convincing. Natasha curls up tighter, and rests her pale cheek on the cushions.

“I’m fine,” she says quietly. It’s an outrageous lie. Clint has been struggling too, but at least he had some goddam cheerios for breakfast.

“I’m going to bring you some groceries,” he says.

“Whatever.”

He leaves her to her wallowing, and makes a determined trip to the nearest bodega, where he stocks up on essentials and a few non-essential treats. Arms laden with bags, he makes his way back to her building, and up to her apartment. She is dozing on the couch again, so he unpacks the bags and slings some bread in the toaster, then shuffles around in the cupboard for the peanut butter he just put in there.

Natasha rolls off the couch and comes to watch him, arms folded, a bemused look on her face.

“Why do you care if I eat?” she asks.

“Because humans do this weird thing where if they don’t eat, they die.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t give me that look,” he says, brandishing the peanut butter he’s just located at her. “Humans need to eat. That’s science.”

She watches him like someone at the zoo. He takes the toast when it’s done and spreads peanut butter on it. He bites into one slice, holding it between his teeth, and hands her the other slice. She looks at it with overt distaste, and sets it down beside her on the bench. Clint takes a measured bite of his own toast, and watches her in silence. She rolls her eyes again and Clint is surprised she’s not dizzy from the amount of times she’s done that. She picks up her toast slice, and takes a small bite. He watches her as she chews it, and swallows. She waits for him to leave her alone. She should definitely know by now that he won’t, not until she’s eaten the damn toast.

“You’re very irritating,” she says, through a mouthful of peanut butter.

“Takes one to know one,” he mutters, as he puts the peanut butter away.

-

She doesn’t eat anything for dinner, and Clint puts the leftover stir-fry in a container in the fridge, just in case she wants to wait until he’s gone. He doesn’t have high hopes though, so he leaves her in the late evening, still pale, still tired, curled up on the couch with a book.

Clint forms a plan, and sleeps. When he wakes, he goes straight back to Natasha’s place, via the bodega. He knows he’s the only one who has a key to her place, so hopefully she won’t shoot him in the head.

He enters her apartment, and all the lights are off. She’s still asleep, which is unusual for seven in the morning. Clint chalks it up to her eating almost nothing for four days, and gets to work on breakfast. By the time Natasha emerges from her room, he’s laid out a spread of waffles, bacon, syrup and various fruit all over the table.

“Do you like it?” he asks, gesturing to the feast. “The waffles are only heart shaped because the bodega only had heart shaped ones in the freezer.”

“You made me frozen waffles?” she asks. He passes her a coffee, which she takes with what nearly looks like a smile.

“Hey,” he protests. “I’m working with what the bodega has to offer. Besides, you don’t have a waffle iron.”

“Third cupboard from the left on the top.”

He huffs. “Okay, I didn’t think to check.”

She laughs, and it’s the best sound Clint’s heard all week. Natasha nibbles on the corner of a waffle, eats a strawberry, and spends the rest of the meal focused on her coffee. Clint jokes, keeping it light, but he is aching for the woman in front of him, and at the same time, he’s frustrated.

“Medical won’t clear you,” he says, when they have both reached the bottom of their coffees. “Not if you’re not eating.”

She sits back in her chair and looks at him. “You’ll tell them?”

He shrugs, a little helplessly. “What am I supposed to do? Stand by and let you go back into the field before you’re ready?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

She rolls her eyes. As she gets up to leave, Clint wonders if they do eye-rolling in the Olympics. Natasha could eye-roll for America. Or Russia, he supposes.

Her bedroom door slams, and Clint clears away the breakfast. The leftovers go into the fridge beside the untouched stir-fry from the night before. He heads out, but not for long. Just after midday, he’s back in her kitchen.

“Seriously?” she asks. She comes into the kitchen, where Clint is pressing paninis. “You’re still doing this?”

“I’m doing this until you eat,” he says, sliding one sandwich onto a plate and cutting it diagonally. “This one’s prosciutto, provolone and pesto. It’s amazing.”

“No thanks.”

He clenches his teeth. “The other one is chicken, brie and rocket. Also good.”

“Clint.”

“What?” he asks. He swings around with two plates in hand to find her leaning against the door frame. She looks unsteady, and as he watches, she slips and grabs the frame. He sets the plates down and hurries over to her.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “It’s alright. Here, lean on me.”

She does, and he helps her over to her seat.

“You’re killing me, Romanoff,” he sighs, his hand still on her shoulder. “I know it was a bad mission. We’re both messed up. But starving yourself to death isn’t going to help you, and it certainly isn’t going to help me.”

She nods, and then shakes her head. Clint watches his partner struggle for words, something he’s only seen her do a handful of times.

“I just need…”

“Tell me,” he murmurs, after she trails off. “Tell me what you need, so I can help you.”

“I need to be in control,” she says. She looks up at him, and all traces of the Black Widow are gone. All Clint sees is a vulnerable, tired Natasha, looking at him with a pleading face he knows she never shows to anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll figure it out. Come on.”

He helps her over to the couch, where she curls up under a blanket. She dozes off almost instantly, and Clint leaves for yet another trip to the bodega. The guy behind the counter gives him a welcoming, if puzzled smile. He collects everything he needs, pays, and goes back up to Natasha’s apartment. He sets it all up in the kitchen, then goes to wake Natasha.

“What’s this?” she asks, when he shows her his setup.

“Pasta,” he says. “Come on.”

He ushers her over to the bench.

“Remember the first time we made pasta?” he asks. She nods, and a little smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

“I’d never made it before,” she recalls. Her hands move to the stove dials and she lights the flame on the hob. Clint has already filled a pot with salted water, and she moves it onto the flame.

“You threw pasta at the wall.”

He chuckles at the memory. “That’s the best way to check if it’s ready.”

“You could just taste it.”

“Less fun.”

She laughs, and opens the packet of pasta. When the water boils, she slides the pasta into the pot.

“Remember the sauce we made that night?”

She nods again. “Carbonara.”

Clint gestures to island bench, where the ingredients are waiting for her. Natasha looks more relaxed now, so he takes her by the waist and steers her over to where he’s laid out a chopping board.

“Garlic,” he prompts her. She chops the cloves finely. Unprompted, she takes the pancetta and chops that too. When she pauses, Clint hands her a small frying pan.

As he watches, she fries the pancetta and the garlic. When it’s done, she moves on to the next step without instruction, mixing eggs, cream and cheese in a bowl.

“The pasta,” he reminds her. Natasha drains the pasta, and she gracefully folds the mixture through the steaming pasta. Clint watches, and she stirs it until it’s ready and then ladles it into two bowls.

“There’s cheese for topping,” he says, pointing. She grabs it, and sprinkles a little on each serve.

Natasha takes the two bowls to the table and sits. Clint grabs them each a beer from one of the bodega bags, and passes her one.

“Well cooked,” he says, leaning over to inhale the fragrance of the food. It brings back memories of that night in a dingy apartment, long before they had money or coworkers or anything much to worry about except keeping each other alive. He remembers a young woman, so proud of the simple meal she’d cooked, and eating that meal out of plastic takeout containers, sitting on a windowsill while rain fell outside.

Clint is so taken in by this vision of the past that he doesn’t notice Natasha eating her pasta. She is enjoying every mouthful, lost in the same memory he’s drifting in.

“Seconds?” she asks. He blinks. She’s already moving over to the pot to scoop more pasta onto her plate. He lets the warm, accomplished feeling roll through him until there’s nothing he can do but smile.

“Please,” he says, holding out his plate.

-

Later, when they’ve abandoned their plates and finished their drinks, Natasha reaches across the couch for his hand. Clint laces their fingers together, and brings her hand to his lips for a rare moment of closeness.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. He doesn’t have to say anything. He just squeezes her hand.

[alongingwithin]

“Stop glaring, sweet cheeks. I know you want me.”  [From Simon... cuz why the Hell not? 😏] @untamedgoodoleboys​ || Unprompted

The comment was as farfetched as it was insolent, but then again, maybe Liv´s concentrated expression in his general direction and the camera in her hand were implying something to a vain soul as this. That´s why it took her a moment to even reply – the thought of just ignoring him or gracing his remark with a clearly annoyed shake of head passing her mind – a pause that deliberately lasted a while for dramatic purpose; Liv wouldn´t give the moron the satisfaction of making him believe it was that easy to get under her skin. Slowly, her camera sunk, and her head cocked right, her look taking on exaggerated pity. She´d noticed the man jumping around in the scenery she´d been trying to gauge for an upcoming photo-op, but as cute she thought he was, his approach stifled any interest of giving him the benefit of doubt. 

“Don´t flatter yourself cowboy,” she opted for retorting with a similarly derogative term but doing it in a calm, faintly amused tone, “I´m just checkin´ out the area, not you.” Her eyes rolled while she packed up her camera. “That dried fern over there is more interestin´ than you, to be honest.” If he had had the intention to vex her he´d succeeded, and if he had any intention of turning it around he´s had to come up with something really really clever. Or charming. And that was about it with mulling over the guy; Liv was done here anyway and had a few more places on her list before heading home.  

[todoiibaku]

Me, looking at your url: can I get uh... todoiidabaku for the ship ask

truest fan comin off anon just to request the blogsake snjkbgsend ships

who hogs the duvettodoroki but bakugou is a fighter and always takes it back anyway

who texts/rings to check how their day is goingiida… always checkin in on his boys (bakugou pretends not to notice but then he gets worried if iida Doesn’t send at least one a day lmao)

who’s the most creative when it comes to giftsbakugou is probably the only one socially competent enough to understand what gifts ppl actually want to recieve lmao,, if it counts iida has read almost every article abt what gifts you should get ur s/o

who gets up first in the morningbakugou or iida i think,, it might vary between days but whenever one of those two gets up the other will follow and then its just todoroki in bed

who cries at movieshmmb idk. neither of them are really criers but iida Might if its impactful enough

who gives unprompted massagestodoroki,, baku and iida both have like crazy tenseness and todo is Very tactile

who fusses over the other when they’re sickiida mostly,, he’ll set up like a whole nurse station in their room so he can take Proper care of the other two if they get sick

who gets jealous easiestbakugou lmaoo… even if its just a little thing like todoroki talking to kaminari or smth he starts thinking kami’s tryna snatch todo and gets mad

who has the most embarrassing taste in musicbakugou listens to rap/metal, iida listens to classical/jazz, and todoroki hasnt heard any songs that were made in the past 3 years you tell me

who collects something unusualbakugou probably collects hero figurines kinda like deku but thats not really Unusual.. i think todoroki would like seashells

who takes the longest to get readybakugou.. hes got a skin care routine

who is the most tidy and organisediida but by relation bakugou and todoroki are also tidy because iida either makes them clean up their stuff or they clean so he doesnt get upset 

who gets most excited about the holidaysiida Loves the holidays. he gets to go home and see his family and spend time with the fam And the bfs like… woah

who is the big spoon/little spoonok big to little todoroki -> iida -> bakugou. bakugou little spoon = GALAXY brain yall just hear me out

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sportsyou know

who starts the most argumentsbakugou and todoroki Always are bickering abt little things but only bc todoroki thinks its cute when bakugou gets worked up lmao

who suggests that they buy a pettodoroki or iida ,, todoroki definitely wants a cat or smth but its probably iida who finally picks up on that and is like hm. lets get a Cat, perhap

what couple traditions they havethey cook dinner together on weekend nights most of the time unless one of them has to be away and todoroki is Always in the middle when they watch movies together

what tv shows they watch togetherbakugou likes watching drama shit like cutthroat kitchen but iida likes slower paced shows so they meet in between with like crime dramas (todoroki is happy with whatever but sometimes he convinces them to watch cartoons)

what other couple they hang out withhmm ochaminamomo double dates?? hmm?? 

how they spend time together as a coupleeating bakugous leftover meals and listening to iida lecture about whatever topic they accidentally got him on,, i think they would go to the park together a lot

who made the first movebakugou probably got tired of waiting for them to do something and just like. full kissed one of them and was like “so like. we datin now or”

who brings flowers homeiida… none of them know how to take care of plants but they smell nice and it always makes bakugou embarrassed

who is the best cookbakugou hands Down. iida can manage and he helps a lot for dinner and such but they Can’t let todoroki in there

[missmarvelnerd]

Cause I'm miserable

And nobody even knows

[compendiumused]

@gameboyheroes​ asked: "Honey, have you ever heard of working too hard?" A sweet voice chimed, setting down some dinner for the man. "Look at me, and not those cakes. Now kiss me, you fool." -- (( Domestic life ShinjiMika; close to or post P5? ))

Unprompted | Always accepting

“Mm, just checkin’ to see if they’re doing alright in the oven...” He mumbled mostly to himself, then turned around to give her a cheeky smile. “Alright, Miss Arisato. I won’t hold back.” He said in a teasing manner and kissed her quite passionately before pulling him away. “That smells good. Thanks for the food, Mika.” He sat down after washing his hands, prayed and started eating. Omurice, one of his most favorites of Mika’s.

[halcyotic]

' saved you a seat, figured you'd show up here sooner or later. '

unprompted.     /      @arclady.

        “   thanks. i don’t usually like coming here, anyway. kinda bugs me out.    “ adjusting to life in the tower was tough enough, he didn’t need the added attention of everyone coming up and asking him what the wilds were like, given he’s a hunter and when a hunter comes back from their journeys out there, they have one killer story. granted, he had a ton. but, still, he didn’t like so much attention. “    i also don’t really like the food here. ‘been wanting to check out in the city, see if there’s anything down there worth checkin’ out.   “

        maybe it was just him, though. ‘cause he did find some friends, and he was friendly. maybe a bit standoffish at first, but he enjoyed the company when he wasn’t out there fighting to survive. here, it was nice. not something to be in for the rest of his life, but it was a nice break. 

[missmarvelnerd]

Feeling weird, in a funk, maybe a bit of a spiral, idk. Am I being too subtle?

[missmarvelnerd]

[missmarvelnerd]

I wish people would just check in just because.