#Adopt a Bob today

[krills-art-cafe]

[fizhingtrawl]

“..Shoot.”

“You didn’t get this package from me! Adios!”

[autistickfigure]

YOU CAN MAKE THE PINBORD BIGGER I CAN PUT SO MUCH crap DO you like the color of the BOB? Let's think about this

[roosterforme]

Some Things Take Time | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: Bob is a man well known for his patience. He never rushes things in the air, and he tries to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. You and he are both on the same page about welcoming a child into your home through foster care, but it's hard for him to watch you try to bond with her unsuccessfully. He soon realizes that Avery is a lot like him, and that some things are worth the extra time.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of infertility, mentions of foster care and adoption, Bob making all other men look like trash

Length: 5800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x wife!reader

Happy birthday @wkndwlff! Check my masterlist for more!

You were laying on the couch with your head resting on your husband's lap, spinning his wedding band around on his finger while you tried to put your thoughts into words. You could tell he knew you were on the verge of speaking, sending you several expectant glances as you and he both pretended to watch the movie he started an hour ago. But Bob would never rush you, and you were thankful for that, because you wanted to make sure you got this right. 

"We've been trying for a long time," you whispered, and Bob's blue eyes met yours as you looked up at him. "Almost two years."

He nodded once and smiled softly. "We have," he murmured, squeezing your hand in his larger one. You pressed your lips together as tears stung your eyes. Bob never seemed upset that he was pushing forty years old and in spite of trying and trying, you'd never gotten pregnant. He never put pressure on you to keep trying or to stop. You were convinced he never would, but you wanted to know what he was really thinking.

"What if we... stopped. Stopped trying. And just went with an alternative?"

"Honey, I already told you I'm happy with things how they are. We can stop trying if you want to, or we can talk about alternatives if you want to do that. But there's nothing wrong with just you and me. In fact, I'm really quite enjoying myself."

You closed your eyes as his fingers drifted along the curves of your side. It would be delicious to get back into the habit of having sex when you wanted to instead of when your cycle demanded it. You and Bob sharing your undivided attention with each other was something you were craving, but you still wanted something else, too.

"What if I said I wanted to look into fostering and adoption again?" you asked softly as you started to sit up.

He pulled you closer so you were straddling his thigh. "Then I would say we can call our lawyer on Monday and get some answers."

You smiled as you nudged his glasses with your nose and kissed his cheek. "And what if I said I'm not fertile today, but I want you anyway?"

Bob reached for the remote and turned the movie off as a soft blush rose in his cheeks. "Then I would say it's time we got in bed, Honey."

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

Bob was a man who was well known for his patience. He never rushed things in the air, and he tried to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. He knew he wanted to marry you about halfway through the first date. He also knew you would have looked at him like he was insane if he admitted that to you halfway through the first date. So instead of rushing things, he took the time to make sure you were on the same page he was and that you were comfortable. He always tried to do that.

When a baby just didn't seem to be happening, he was more than willing to keep trying, but he was also completely content with the idea of no kids at all. It wasn't worth rushing anything as long as he had you in his life. But you had recently convinced him of a third option, and his lawyer helped the two of you smooth out the details. 

And this is how Avery ended up at Bob's house on a random Monday evening. She was eight years old and in need of a foster family, and you were adamant when you answered the phone call that you and Bob were more than ready for her to be dropped off even on such short notice. 

"I'm so nervous," you whispered as you held Bob's hand and watched through the front window as a van pulled up. 

"I'm excited," he told you with a soft laugh. When he thought about having kids, he always pictured a little girl. For some reason, the idea of reading princess stories and painting a bedroom a putrid shade of purple really appealed to him. As he watched Avery being led up the walkway, he realized she didn't look one bit like you or him. He also realized that having a child who resembled him was actually never part of his dreams. 

As the doorbell rang, you bounced in place and whispered, "She's here. She's really here." 

Bob pulled you in for a kiss as his heart thudded. He realized he needed to tamp down his excitement a little bit. The two of you were merely fostering Avery. Nothing was set in stone even though you told the lawyer you wanted to eventually adopt a child. But right now your eyes were glittering with hope and anticipation, and Bob couldn't take that away from you. 

"Let's make her feel welcome," he said as you both headed for the door. 

Avery stood there with an unreadable expression on her adorable face, and Bob noticed right away how the case worker seemed to rush through everything. There were papers to sign and a schedule to keep, and even though all of it pertained to Avery, she ended up sitting quietly at the kitchen table while everyone else talked about her.

It was late by the time you and Bob were alone with her, and now her unreadable expression looked something like sadness. "Avery," Bob said softly. "Do you want to see your bedroom?"

She looked up at him and nodded without saying a word, and then you helped her down from the chair. You had taken the time to freshen up the extra bedroom and buy a pink glitter toothbrush and a pair of pajamas in her size. But Avery just sat down on the edge of the bed with her bag and asked, "Do I have to go to school tomorrow?"

"Yes," Bob replied with a smile. "I'll drop you off on my way to work, and then I'll pick you up in the afternoon."

When she didn't respond, you asked, "Is there anything you want? A bedtime snack or something to drink? I could make you some hot chocolate or get you a cookie. Bob makes the best oatmeal cookies, and there are a few left from the weekend. Maybe you can help Bob make the next batch." You were rambling now, and Bob reached out to squeeze your hand as you said, "We're just excited that you're here."

But Avery shook her head and told you, "I'll just read my book. Thanks." Then she untied her shoes and took a well worn copy of The Secret Garden from her bag, but she sat on the bed with rigid posture, not looking at either of you.

Bob wasn't quite sure what to do. You'd already shown the child where the bathroom was, and she seemed to have all of her essentials. He swallowed hard, deciding not to rush Avery even though he could feel your disappointment radiating off of you. He cleared his throat and said, "We'll leave our bedroom door open in case you need anything. And we'll get you up around seven for school. Good night, Avery."

She just nodded and squinted down at the tattered book cover like she was going to cry. Bob led you down the hallway, through your room and into the en suite bathroom where he gathered you in his arms as tears filled your eyes. "I don't think she likes us," you gasped before you buried your face against his neck.

Bob kissed the top of your head and whispered, "I just think she needs some time. Let's not rush anything." 

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

You cried yourself to sleep the first night. You knew that your response wasn't fair to Bob or Avery or even to yourself, but you'd imagined meeting a little girl who was at least a little bit more talkative if not upbeat. You had your hopes set on fostering a child who at least gave the impression that your home was better than another alternative. You'd been given a vague picture of where Avery had come from, and you wanted her to be comfortable here, but now you felt stupid for buying the glitter toothbrush and the Minnie Mouse pajamas. 

Bob's hand drew lazy circles on your back as you turned away from him and cried softly. "It's just the first night," he reminded you in that sweet, even tone that you loved so much.

"I know. I just wanted this so desperately," you admitted between shaky breaths. His hand on your body helped you eventually fall asleep, and the next morning, Bob was up before you, making breakfast. When you tapped on Avery's door which was ajar, you poked your head in to find her once again sitting on the bed reading.

"Did you sleep okay?" you asked, and she nodded in response. "That's great!" you said in a tone of forced excitement. "Do you need help getting ready for school?"

"No," she said softly, setting the book aside.

You took a deep breath and said, "Bob's making breakfast. Do you want to come downstairs and eat?"

"Yes."

That was the last word you heard her speak before Bob led her out to his car in his uniform. He smiled at you over his shoulder as he told you to have a good day working on your true crime novel, but you knew you weren't going to. You spend two hours trying to write, but you ended up with three and a half new sentences. Instead, you spent most of the day thinking you'd made a huge mistake and hating your own body. Avery would probably last two weeks tops with you and Bob before she was begging to go somewhere else. You didn't even know if you could stand to see her melancholy little expression when your husband brought her home from school today, but you didn't want to call her case worker for help yet.

In the afternoon, you bought everything you needed to make oatmeal cookies along with the rest of your usual groceries. You paused next to the checkout line where there was a display of children's books and grabbed a few of them. Avery appeared to like her book more than anything else, so maybe she would appreciate these ones, too.

But when Bob brought Avery home with him after school, she barely spoke. She didn't want to help make any cookies, and after dinner, she went back to her bedroom. Bob tried to help her with her homework, but she told him it was easy and she already finished it. When you dropped off the new books, she told you she already had a favorite. 

"Oh," you said, standing in the doorway with your hands full of the unwanted books. "That's good... that you have a favorite. I have a favorite book, too."

She looked up at you and nodded, but soon you were backing out of the room and trying to hide your tears from Bob. "It takes time," he reassured you as you balled your hands into fists and cried on him again.

You knew you needed to be as patient as he always was, but you just weren't like him. And you started talking before you could stop yourself. "If we could have gotten pregnant, we'd have our own child," you sobbed. "One that we raised from day one who would love us and bake cookies and read new books."

Bob kissed your ear and whispered, "Nothing is easy, Honey. But sometimes the harder something is at first, the more rewarding it is later on."

You cried yourself to sleep again.

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

Bob tried his best for that first week. He watched you start to pull away and retreat into yourself the more Avery kept to her bedroom. Every day when he dropped her off and picked her up, she thanked him for the ride. When he asked if she would rather start taking the bus, she told him it didn't matter. When he asked if there was something special she wanted to eat for dinner, she said she wasn't picky. 

And all the while she just squinted down at her book. Just The Secret Garden even though you brought home some others. When he pulled up to the curb in front of her school one morning, he said, "Avery, would you like me to take you to the library one day? Or maybe a bookstore where you can pick out what you want?"

She looked at him as she grabbed her backpack in one hand and her book in the other. "Maybe." Then she climbed out of the car, and he waited to pull away until she was inside the school building. That was the most promising answer he'd received yet. He drove to work thinking about signing her up for a library card, and when he got there, he was in a much better mood.

Natasha was the only one who knew that Avery was under his care. He didn't want to give anyone too many details, but she sweetly asked him the same question every morning after they got to work. "How are you and the Mrs. making out with your houseguest?"

And this morning, he said, "Maybe a little better today, Nat. I'm just trying not to rush it."

She patted him on the chest and smiled. "You never do, Bob. You're a man of details."

She was right. He spent the day thinking about all of the details that he knew about Avery. She was eight years old and very quiet. She only wanted to read one book even though you offered her more. She seemed to find the most comfort when she was alone. She was honestly a lot like Bob.

When he picked Avery up from school, he watched as one of the teachers patted the top of her backpack and sent her on her way. She squinted toward his car before trudging over in his direction with a frown on her face. Bob sighed as she climbed into the backseat and buckled herself in. "How was your day, Avery?" he asked as he shifted into drive. But today he got no verbal response at all. Instead he heard her crying.

Without another word, Bob pulled his car around and into an empty parking spot before killing the engine. He opened his door and closed it before taking a few deep breaths, and then he climbed in the back door and settled in next to the crying child. He let one hand gently rest on her shoulder, giving her a small squeeze before asking, "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

She just shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks, and she stared at her feet. "It's stupid."

Bob smiled slightly. "You might think so, but I'd probably find what you have to say fascinating."

She turned her head to look at him, examining his face to see if he was being honest. But of course he was. He just wanted her to tell him what was on her mind. It took a few minutes before she started to settle down, but eventually she said, "I failed my eye exam with the nurse today." She unzipped her bag and pulled out a yellow sheet of paper and handed it to him. "She told me my eyesight is terrible and that I need to get glasses."

Bob looked at the page and had to hide his alarm from her. Avery failed her eye exam spectacularly. It was a wonder to Bob that she was even able to see in her classroom. But now her squinting and her preference for one, well worn book were starting to make sense. As he filled in the blanks in his mind, he said, "Glasses aren't so bad," while he tapped his own silver frames. "They certainly make my day a lot easier."

She kind of rolled her eyes and said, "But you're an adult. People aren't going to make fun of you for wearing glasses."

"You think you'll get made fun of?" Bob asked softly, folding the yellow paper in half.

"Yes," she replied immediately as she wiped at her tears. "I already do. Glasses will make it so much worse."

Bob wanted to press her for more details, but he didn't think this was the right moment. Instead he asked, "Is that why you only like to read The Secret Garden? Because you already know most of the words by heart?"

Avery looked at him like she couldn't believe he solved a very complex riddle. "Yes."

He nodded and asked, "Would you like to be able to read other books, too? Because glasses would definitely help with that."

She shrugged and sniffed as she said, "I like books about gardens and flowers and fairies. I don't know of any other ones I would like anyway."

Bob patted her on the shoulder one more time and said, "I like those kinds of books, too. And I think I can help you get glasses that look cool and help you pick out more books. If you'll let me."

Another partial shrug was his only answer, but at least she wasn't telling him no. As he climbed back into the driver's seat, he sent you a quick text telling you that he and Avery were fine and to go ahead and have dinner on your own. Then he drove along to his optometrist's office, hoping they would squeeze an extra appointment into their schedule.

"You're in luck," the receptionist told him when they arrived. "There was a last minute cancellation. Have a seat, and we can take you back shortly."

The rack hanging on the wall was filled with books and magazines for people of all ages, but Bob watched Avery squint as she took a seat empty handed. He skimmed a magazine and offered to read an article to her, but she said no. When ten minutes had passed, Bob asked her, "Are the kids at school mean to you?" 

He was already considering other options that might make her feel more comfortable when she said, "I just don't fit in. Everyone else has parents or grandparents. Everyone else is loud, and I like it better when it's quiet. Everyone else already made friends."

Bob nodded his head. It was like she was living his own childhood in many ways. "I like it better when it's quiet, too. So does my wife. And making friends can be hard at any age. I still struggle with it."

"You do?" she asked him, eyes wide and interested.

"Absolutely. Sometimes I still get nervous and stumble over what I want to say, and I'm thirty-nine. And you know what?"

"What?"

"There's nothing wrong with that."

He watched Avery take a deep breath and look down at her hands before both of their names were called. Once they were in the exam room, Bob got to witness her fail the test for the second time in one day, and then her tears started up again. The crying was only made worse when the receptionist popped in and tried to quietly tell Bob that Avery wasn't approved for any vision insurance. 

The child was clearly smart as a whip, and if she was having a hard time fitting in at school, he didn't want to make it worse by making her feel like she didn't fit in with you and him either. "I was planning on paying out of pocket today," he told the receptionist who just nodded in response. Then he turned to Avery and said, "Looks like the nurse was right. How about we pick out some glasses?"

She looked at the displays while she wiped at her eyes with a tissue, but she wouldn't tell Bob which ones she wanted to try on. "Which ones are the cheapest?" she asked softly.

"I have no idea," Bob replied easily. "What's your favorite color?"

"Purple," she whispered, and Bob followed her squinting gaze to a purple frame sitting on a shelf above her head. 

"I like purple, too," he said as he reached them down and handed them to her. She held them for a couple minutes, and Bob decided not to rush her. She finally slipped them on and looked in the mirror, and he told her, "I think they look cool."

She nodded a little bit. "They're pretty good. But nobody else at school has purple glasses." 

As she removed them and tried to hand them back to him, Bob quickly looked at the adult sized frames. There was one pair that came in a deep purple, and he kind of liked them. "Just hang onto those for a minute. I need help picking out new glasses for myself, okay? What do you think about these?" 

When he removed his wire frames and replaced them with the purple plastic, it seemed like Avery couldn't help but smile. "I like them."

He nodded once. "Then I'll get them. That way we can match since we both like purple. Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome," she replied quietly, looking at the glasses she was still holding before handing them to Bob.

He took both pairs in his hand before nodding toward the door. "I'm feeling like it's a good day to get ice cream for dinner and look around the bookstore. I can think of at least two more books that you might like to read once your glasses are ready for you to wear. Sound good?"

"Yes."

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

You didn't know what to expect when Bob brought Avery home after seven o'clock on a school night, but you definitely weren't prepared to hear her laughter for the first time. You'd barely made any progress on your novel since Avery arrived a few weeks ago, merely existing in your own funk all day long. But the sound of Bob's voice followed by her light giggle as they walked inside left you feeling better than you had in ages.

"Hi," you said, your voice dripping with optimism as Bob headed your way with a shopping bag in his hand. 

"Hi, Honey," he replied, kissing your cheek while Avery took her shoes off.

"How was school?" you asked her. 

"Terrible," she told you with a smile aimed up at Bob. "I failed my eye exam."

"Oh," you gasped, already making a mental note to call the eye doctor first thing in the morning so she could get some glasses. "We can take care of it for you."

"Already did," Bob said as he squeezed your hand. "Stopped on the way home and picked them out. Should be ready next week."

"Really?" you asked in surprise as he pulled two books out of the bag. Both were covered in vines and flowers, but one was clearly a novel for an adult while the other was much slimmer and looked like it was for Avery's reading level.

"Yes," he replied softly. "Now, on the drive home, I told Avery that you're a writer, but that you're also really good at reading books out loud." When you nodded and looked at her, she was squinting up at you. Bob handed you the smaller book and said, "I didn't get to take a shower before I left work, so I need to go do that now. But I promised Avery that you'd read a chapter to her after she gets ready for bed." He patted her on the shoulder and then made his way upstairs.

Your head was swimming with information. New glasses and new books and a child who was looking up at you with hope in her eyes. A husband who set up some time for you to spend alone with her. Tears stung your eyes as you said, "I love reading books out loud. Do you want to change for bed and brush your teeth now?"

Ten minutes later, you were sitting next to Avery on the spare bed, reading to her about a magical garden filled with flowers that turned the characters into superheroes. You read all sixteen pages of the first chapter, and then she asked you to read more. 

It was a little bit past bedtime when you finished the third chapter, and she was yawning. "How about I go get you one of my bookmarks from my office? And we can read more tomorrow night?"

"Okay," she replied easily, and when you returned a minute later with a bookmark that had a purple tassel, she smiled. "I like this book so far, but I think I'd like it a lot better if there were fairies, too. Thank you for reading to me."

"You're very welcome," you told her, barely shutting off the light in time for a tear to slide down your cheek. "Goodnight, Avery."

When you rushed into your own bedroom, Bob was in bed reading the other new book. "How did you do it?" you asked him, quickly climbing under the covers with him. "How did you get her to open up a little bit?"

He set the book down with a soft smile. "She just needed some time, Honey. She's a lot like me. She can't be rushed."

"No," you said, pushing your fingers through his hair as you cried a little bit. "That's not it. I think you're actually magical."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But her vision is so bad. That's why I think she kept reading The Secret Garden. She probably has it memorized and didn't want to tell anyone she couldn't see."

"Poor thing," you whispered, realizing that most of Bob's magic came from his patience as you fell asleep in his arms.

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

A week later, Bob noticed you were exhausted, but you seemed a lot happier, because Avery seemed a lot happier. You had successfully read two books to her, and she was starting to become more vocal around the house. He was hoping she was having an easier time making friends at school now, too. But he was a little bit concerned with how late into the night you'd been working.

When he got a message around lunchtime letting him know both pairs of glasses were ready, he smiled. Pretty soon Avery would be able to attempt reading a new book on her own. He sent you a text letting you know that he'd be home with Avery after a quick stop back at the optometrist's office. And when he picked her up from school, she squinted at his car before climbing in the backseat. 

"Ready to go get our new glasses?" he asked before pulling out onto the road.

"Yes," she replied softly. "I've decided that wearing glasses is a better alternative than not being able to read new books. At least until I can get contacts."

Bob chuckled. "A wise choice."

A few seconds later, she asked, "Will you take me to the library this weekend? There have to be more books there that I'd like."

"Of course I'll take you to the library. We can ask the librarian to help you find you as many books as you want to read."

He hoped that would make the new glasses an even easier decision for her. He parked and led her inside where the eye doctor got them both fitted correctly before handing them a mirror. "What do you think?" Bob asked as he smiled at Avery. "I think they look cool on you."

She shrugged. "They're okay."

"Can you see better?"

"Yes," she whispered. On the way outside, she said, "Thanks for getting new glasses with me. I like yours, too."

Bob checked himself in the mirror before he backed out of the parking spot. "I think it's kind of my color."

You were waiting in the living room for them when Bob opened the front door. The house smelled like dinner cooking, and you had a stack of bound pages on the couch next to you. When you jumped to your feet, you said, "You both look great!" as you bounced in place a little bit.

"Purple is kind of our color," Avery said, making Bob laugh as you covered your massive smile with your fingertips. 

"It really is," you replied, wrapping Bob in a quick hug before cautiously placing your hand on Avery's shoulder for a beat. "I have something I wanted to show you. I was hoping to get your opinion."

"Me?" she asked, looking up at you, eyes wide behind her purple frames.

"Yes," you told her softly. "I've been working on a new story for the past week, and I really think you'll be able to help me with the ending."

"What kind of story?" she asked you, and Bob slowly made his way into the kitchen where he could still hear the two of you talking. 

"Well," you told her as she joined you on the couch, "it's about a fairy who gets invited to live in a magic garden. And she starts to learn how to use magic herself while a friendly witch and a kind wizard supervise her. And the garden is really pretty, and she loves it there and starts to make friends with the other creatures. Do you want to take a look at it?"

"Okay."

Bob hovered in the doorway and watched you hand the bound manuscript to the little girl next to you while you chewed nervously on your lip. He knew you wanted this to work out; he did too. He was also very surprised that you'd been working on this for the past week without sharing your secret even with him. But it truthfully wasn't really for him. It was for her. And you.

The child looked up at you and whispered, "You named the fairy Avery."

You just nodded and smiled. "Your name is so pretty, and you remind me of the kind of little girl who would have magic inside her."

Avery turned back to the page in front of her and snuggled in a little bit closer to you. She started reading out loud, and after a few pages, handed it over to you for a little bit. The two of you went back and forth like this for an hour before Bob carried in two plates of dinner and set them on the coffee table. 

"Even magic fairies get hungry," he said softly before leaving both of you to the story.

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

When you woke up a few weeks later on Avery's ninth birthday, you were beyond exhausted. The past few nights had been late ones for you as you tried to finish up and edit the story you'd been working on. The title that the two of you came up with was The Littlest Fairy in the Garden, and you were just as proud of this as your true crime releases. 

Then you realized that there was actually a reason why you woke up. You could hear Bob talking. It sounded like he was on the phone even though it was barely eight o'clock. You climbed out of bed and stretched before finding him sitting on the floor in the walk-in closet talking softly on the phone in his pajama pants, undershirt and purple glasses.

"I'm sure she's going to agree with me. We want to move forward if that's what Avery wants, but I'll call you back in an hour or two. Thank you so much."

He ended the call right when you asked, "Who was that?"

Bob jumped a bit as he looked up at you with a tentative smile. "Our lawyer," he whispered. 

"What did they say?" you whispered back as he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around you. 

When Bob's lips found your ear, you shivered at his words. "It was just a preliminary conversation, but they asked if we would be interested in pursuing adoption."

"With Avery?" you gasped, and he nodded against you. 

"Yes. With Avery."

Tears filled your eyes as you clung to him. You thought about all the books she'd been reading with you and the birthday cake waiting in the kitchen. You could practically still smell the oatmeal cookies she and Bob made a few days ago. You could picture her smile and imagine her laughter, both of which were coming more easily with each passing day. "I want to adopt her. She belongs here. With us."

"I think so, too," he replied immediately, and you could hear the unshed tears in her voice. "I think we should have a conversation with her about it today. The process could take a little time, but I want to be sure it's what she wants as well."

You nodded, a jerky motion against him as your heart pounded faster and faster. "Let's talk about it when she wakes up."

Bob led you downstairs to the kitchen, his fingers laced with yours, and he started to crack some eggs while you made coffee and fresh orange juice. Avery had picked the menu for each meal today for her birthday, and the plan was to take her to the zoo after lunch. There was currently a purple banner with flowers and fairies on it stretched across the kitchen along with a large assortment of balloons. You couldn't remember being this excited about something in such a long time.

"Good morning," came a soft voice from the bottom of the stairs, and you nearly dropped a mug on the floor as you turned to look at her.

"Happy birthday!" you and Bob replied in unison, and then all three of you started laughing. 

Without another word, Avery made her way into the kitchen in her Minnie Mouse pajamas and gave you a hug around the waist. You gasped softly as you hugged her back, her purple glasses pressing against you. Then she tucked herself against Bob's side and hugged him right after that. "Thanks for all the birthday stuff. And thanks for being so nice to me and getting me glasses and everything."

You and Bob shared a look over her head as he rubbed his hand along her shoulder. "It makes us happy that you're here, Avery," he said softly, and you had to swipe at your tears. "Let's have your breakfast, and maybe we can talk about making this permanent."

"Permanent? Like me staying here for a while?" she asked softly as she looked up at him.

"Like you staying here forever."

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

This is a little birthday treat for @wkndwlff! I hope you have a great day, Taylor! I set out to write a nice little story based on this mood board, but somehow it turned into this angsty thing instead. Thanks to @sylviebell @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[grimesgirll]

it’s rare that rick is home with you in the middle of the day. 

typically, the group leader was off on a run, an errand, or dealing with the duties that came with being constable. but not today! today he was home. you’d even woken up to him beside you, a rarity.

you’d woken up with his taut arms wrapped around you and a nose nuzzled into your neck. the urge to stay overwhelms you but you’ve got to put together some breakfast. you’re slipping out of bed when you feel two arms drawing you back.

“where are you goin’? i thought we were sleeping in today.”

“you never sleep in.” you reminded him.

“except for’ today.” he exhaled into your hair, reaching a hand up to play with one of your french braids. “morning, silly girl,” he greeted, traveling his hand up to cup one of your breasts.

you gasped, breathing deeply as he increases the pressure. “doesn’t seem like you wanna sleep.”

“nope.” the sheriff answered, popping the p. 

god, you wished he could be home every morning to have you squirming. he plunged a sticky finger into you. “another one, please.”

“since you asked so nicely.”

you shuddered at the second addition. grinding back against him, he continued his peace signed shape ministration inside of you. 

“and since you’re gripping me so tight, why not another one?”

“ah!”

“that’s it.”

“mhmmm,” you droned into the pillow.

“feelin’ okay, silly girl?”

“so good, daddy!”

 you didn’t have to see his smirk. you just feel the absence of his fingers. your hips shift in anticipation.

“want me to fuck you nice and dumb on my cock early this morning, baby?” rick questioned with a cocky, sleepy grin. “want me to stuff you, silly girl?” 

your head was bobbing yes immediately and that’s all he needed to pull down his boxers and drive right into you. 

it doesn’t matter if you had a degree in molecular biology or rocket science before all this, you’re still rick’s silly girl. 

his lovely little housewife - the one waiting at home to get fucked to the moon and back on his cock. the same cock that had made your eyes widen when you first saw it. 

you’d never mention it to rick but shane had to really be something for lori fuck everything up with rick over him. yeah, lori thought rick was dead but everything afterwards? you would’ve been head over heels overjoyed to see your man again. 

that’s how you’d felt every time rick came back from a risky run. it was scary to imagine a time when he may not come home. you chose to put it out of your mind and enjoy the organ restructuring dick inside of you.

its owner couldn’t hold himself back from slamming into you on your side. there was never anything more relaxing for rick than being balls deep inside of you - well, maybe being down your throat. 

“my silly girl,” he breathed into your hair. 

it took you two a while to make it to the kitchen. it took even longer to make breakfast after you learned that carl had taken judith over to eugene’s to look into a telescope. 

with the house empty, rick gets to devote an hour to his favorite past time: fucking you against the counter. 

you and rick had stumbled downstairs in your pajamas but they’re scattered on the floor now. you lovers are too enthralled in grinding your bodies as close to each other as possible. rick is on a mission to shove his massive cock as deep inside of your tight cunt as possible. of course, it’s tight fit and a delicate dance of not blowing out your cervix.

the early shocks of your fourth orgasm of the day - second against the counter - make themselves known in a way you can’t ignore.

“you’re hitting all the right spots, rick,” you croon, gazing back at him all fucked out.

you feel him twitch inside of you. he can’t help but lose his mind seeing you so needy beneath him at this time of day. god, he needs to be home more.

“anything for you, pretty girl. you like this?” he lays a firm two fingers on top of your clit.

“mhmmm,” you confirm with a nod. 

your leader takes your murmurings as a go ahead to adopt an intense rhythm; his shaft delivering rapid fire contact with your spongy feel good parts inside while his hand strategically cups your clit. 

his solid length saws into you without any regard for your sensitive pussy. the dull pain pairs well with the pleasure as your clit is lavished in attention and your insides feel like they’re about to come apart around the thick ridges of rick. feeling him bare inside of you equates to pure bliss. 

because just like your cookie dough, you like it raw. 

“can’t wait!” you strain.

ugh, he’s gonna have you exploding again. you’re going to be blacking out for a split second and going soft brained. rick doesn’t need to pound into you to send you to a cloud higher than nine. it’s like you’re not even in the room - not even on earth.

last time rick had fucked one of those mind numbing, leg shaking orgasms out of you. he didn’t even stop for the smoke detector or the smell of torched green beans. he’d seared kisses up your neck from behind and without the will to hold out, he’d snuck you away from your task at hand - a green bean casserole - and instead fucked you silly next to the shoe rack.

he only broke the habit of fucking you through the smoke detector when carol told him off and he realized it was a waste of food. 

you’d both been embarrassed at carol walking into the kitchen to rescue your burnt casserole and discover you and rick disheveled coming out of the mud room. 

after a long day of bullshit, rick wants nothing more than to come home to the beautiful home you’ve made for them. to spend quality time in the home and spend himself in you; always earning a couple of releases from you in the process. 

“can’t wait!” you whimper.

“so you want two?”

you nod. you love when rick gives you back to back pleasure. he’s like the best at it. that is when daryl’s not bullying his way between your legs. 

speak of the devil, daryl’s trudging into the kitchen. figures. you and rick must’ve been so into it that you didn’t hear the mud room door. actually, that’s a lie. rick probably heard the door and just banked on you being too wrapped up in cumming around him like you are now to notice.

the archer is treated to the perfect display of your pulsing pussy as you gush all over the counter. he whistles as some of your slick dribbles down the cabinet drawers. 

“shouldn’t have expected anything else on rick’s day off.” he quips.

the brunette sex god playing chicken with your cervix just snorts, not stopping or slowing down the convergence of his hips and yours for anything. “shouldn’t be draggin’ mud through here.” he advises through gritted teeth.

“daryl,” you pant, overwhelmed by both the aftershocks of your climax and the prospect of mud on your floors.

“sorry, wasn’t very nice and clean in norfolk. but hey, we came here and back with fuel and MREs all before noon, so i wouldn’t be too disappointed.”

“i’m gonna make her cum four times before noon.” rick declares, hammering more frantically into you. 

“rick, slow down,” you pant again. 

“you good, honey?” rick checks in, stilling his thrusts to wait for your reply.

“rosita’s class really took it out of me yesterday. all the muscles are sore,” you complain, eyes watering a bit from your orgasm and the mild throbbing pain in your tightened muscles. 

“poor baby’s feelin’ sore?”

daryl confirms with a nod. “she’s not breathing and stretching like you should when she’s lifting.”

rick gives you a disappointed look. “maybe you’ll take a break from your weight lifting classes. huh, honey?”

you groan and pout.

“then you two need to help me practice kegels.”

“we’ll start now,” the sheriff instructs you. his hands couldn’t be cemented further into the curves of your hips. 

with daryl watching from across the counter, you do your best to remember the motions of a kegel. you squeeze. it feels like you’re doing so randomly but rick is bucking his hips again. as long as he’s not correcting you, it’s good enough. not like he’ll last long anyways. 

you’re irresistible to him, all hot and bleary eyed. 

like the time he fucked you up against a hedge at the community picnic. you two were tucked away in the woods of course but that didn’t make it any less naughty when you sauntered back up the hill and to your picnic blanket with cum inside of you. 

you look just like you did then. hair coming undone from your bedtime braids, tears threatening to fall on the countertop, and your pussy holding on tight and not letting him go. 

you expect to be empty once you’re done spasming around the thick rod inside of you and rick had filled you up completely. the breath is knocked out of your lungs when feel another cock take his place.

“daryl!”

“i know that you can take one more, baby. you love being stuffed one after another.”

“that she does,” rick corroborates.

the constable is in your view so now you can relish in the sight of him finding his clothes while daryl tries to do you in once and for good.

“fuck, dare’!” you wince as he pile drives into you from behind.

“sorry, baby,” he apologizes into the crook of your neck, lowering down and crushing you further into the counter. “just missed you out there. i never find anything as perfect as you.”

“mhmmm,” you babble and squeak in time with his thrusts.

“you really needed the pounding today? huh, hon’?” 

you nod your head the best you can for rick.

“almost there, fucking pretty little bitch.”

daryl feels your reaction on his cock as you shudder around him.

“you like being called a pretty little bitch?”

“maybe,” you stutter.

the auburn haired man fucking rick’s cum into you chuckles. “yeah, i feel how much you like it grippin’ me up so tight.”

“her pussy’s got a killer grip.” rick agreed.

“you ‘bout ready to cum all over this cock? you wanna cum? pretty little thing.” daryl huffs with each thrust.

“yes!” you cry out, tensing around his cock. “please, dare’!”

“silly girl’s gonna make a mess of your cock,” observes the peanut gallery.

“whenever you’re ready, pretty girl,” daryl whispers in your ear.

truth be told, just the heat from his breath on your air had your overworked cunt going off like a sparkler around him.

“daryl, daryl, daryl!” you chant.

the panic in your voice is that of someone falling off a cliff but you’re just nosediving into your orgasm with your boyfriend spearing you on his cock.

the shuddering turns into small aftershocks and your legs eventually still as you bask in the post-orgasmic bliss you’re experiencing of the fifth time today. rick gives you a condescending smirk when he realizes the exact moment daryl’s cum trickles into you. you can’t hide how satisfied you are being so warm and full.

the man withdrawing from your spent pussy points to rick’s snack.

“what’s that?” daryl inquires, referring to the jerky rick is chowing on.

“oh, that’s the jerky i made!” you chirp, peeling yourself off of the countertop. “i’m getting pretty good at jerky. wanna try some? carol’s teaching me how.”

“why not?”

you pull a piece from the ziplock bag that rick holds out for you and gingerly pop it into daryl’s mouth. 

“what do you think?”

he shrugs. “i’d share it with dog - not entirely though.”

you slap his shoulder playfully. “i’m still a beginner. it’ll get better.”

“i think it’s great, sweetheart.” rick compliments, manhandling you to his side of the counter and help you step into your newly discovered sleep shorts.

then you’re being pulled into his lap despite your protests. “rick! i have to make breakfast!” you already had explained to them countless times before why you couldn’t cook topless.

rick and daryl share a look and a snicker before rick is locking you in his seated embrace and daryl is grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge.

“i got it, princess,” daryl hums. “you just take care of rick.”

“i wanted to make breakfast for you on your day off!” you complain, giving rick another pout.

he shakes his head at you. “you know where i want you on my day off, hon’? right here.” to solidify the point, he drags you down onto him, clutching a breast and attacking your neck with his lips.

“already?” you’re asking, punctuating the question with a ragged breath.

“oh, i can go all day today, sweetheart.”

[thefreakandthehair]

happy (belated, sorry!) birthday to @henderdads!! this was supposed to be just fluffy but y'know. the hurt/comfort monster got me. I hope you had a perfect day! <333

can also be found here on AO3!

stars and satellites (will always bring me home)

---

Eddie tries not to think about his birthday. 

He and Wayne have an agreement to let it pass with little to no mention, save for his 16th birthday when he’s able to start driving and his 18th birthday when he hands Eddie a few singles and tells him to go grab himself his first legal pack of cigarettes— and to get one for him, too, since he’ll be at the store anyways. 

It works for Eddie and he goes as far as to hide his birthday from his friends for as long as he possibly can. Gareth, Jeff, and Frank still have no idea. The new found family he’s been adopted into since averting the (apparently third or fourth) Apocalypse don’t know, despite being asked by just about everyone at least once. It’s a fine-tuned skill, evading the question and changing the subject. 

“Hey Eddie, when’s your birthday? Did we miss it already this year?” Dustin asks at Will’s own birthday party. 

Eddie smirks. “Roll for insight, Young Henderson.” 

“Alright, got a die?” 

“Nope, darn!” Eddie pretends to pat the pockets of his jeans before shrugging and walking away. 

Nancy is the hardest to fend off but unless she finds his birth information through the microfiche at the library, he’s stalwart in his stance. She might, though, and that’s his only real concern. But by and large, his friends let it go, chalking it up to one of Eddie’s many quirks and occasionally joking about it when someone else’s birthday rolls around. The one person who won’t put it down though? 

Steve Harrington. 

Steve I Throw Parties For Everyone Harrington. Steve I’m Going To Annoy You About This At Least Once A Week Harrington. Steve Is It Today? Is It Tomorrow? You Seem Like A Winter Baby? Harrington.

And truthfully, Eddie can’t find it within himself to be genuinely mad at him about it, despite having snapped at everyone else who’s dared to ask more than once. Eddie grants Steve a pass for reasons he’s not quite ready to evaluate just yet, reasons he knows he’ll never tell, reasons that would require the same security clearance that knowing his birthday would because knowing his birthday would mean knowing this past. He’s not sure yet if he wants everyone— or anyone— to know about his dear old dad. 

In true The Universe Must Be Sentient And Actively Hate Me fashion, Steve happens to ask him again on his actual birthday. Steve’s backyard is glowing in the bluish tint of the full moon, stars twinkling in and out behind rogue clouds and smoke billowing from the joint they pass between them up towards the sky. It’s cold— early February in Hawkins is no joke— but Steve and Eddie have discovered an affinity for the cold breeze against their skin, finding it grounding and centering in its own way. 

“So, when’s your birthday? Is it getting close?” It’s a question Eddie’s heard no less than twenty times in the same cheeky intonation, Steve having learned not to expect anything besides an out of pocket response. What he doesn’t expect is silence. Steve never expects silence from Eddie. 

He turns to look at Eddie and sees him sitting in the same patio chair he’s been in all night, right next to him— too close, but not close enough at the same time. One leg is drawn up beneath one thigh and Eddie looks up at the sky, pointedly avoiding eye contact. If the moment didn’t feel as heavy as it does, Steve would find himself staring at the muscles of his neck and the way his throat bobs when he swallows. It is heavy though, and Steve can only focus on the weight of the space between them. 

“Hey, you good? You know I’m just fucking with you, right?” Steve asks, passing the joint back to him as an excuse to pull his attention back from the sky above them. Of all of the things Steve’s imagined having to fight for attention from, the moon was certainly not one of them but he supposes that tracks for Eddie. Nothing about Eddie is according to plan. 

Eddie takes the joint and carefully avoids Steve’s eyes, keeping his glance at his hands before returning to the stars and taking a deep inhale. Another few hits will make this all go away, he thinks to himself. The day had been difficult— memories he’d rather not have creeping up and wrapping themselves around his limbs like living vines.

Steve watches little bits of smoke curl out on his exhale and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. 

“Ed, seriously, I’ll stop asking. I’m just teasing, I’ll quit it, just stop with the silence, dude. It’s… weird.” 

“Why?” Eddie asks, quietly. It’s just a single word but he’ll take it. 

“Why is it weird?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Because you’re not quiet. You don’t do silence unless something’s wrong.” 

“Maybe something is.” 

Steve sits for a second, his brain running in circles around itself. You fucked it up, c’mon, you kept asking, you knew better, why’d you have to keep prying, now you made him uncomfortable like you swore not to do—

“I can smell your brain overheating from here, Steve. Relax. It’s not you, I promise.” Eddie chuckles humorlessly under his breath and he makes a spontaneous decision, an impulsive decision he might regret but there's a little part of him that finds it hard to believe he'll ever regret sharing something with Steve.

“Then what is it? What’s wrong? Is it, y’know, End of the World- related or…?” Steve’s voice trails off. Part of the reason they’ve come to have these nights smoking in the cold, alone together, is that exactly: End of the World- related invisible scars. But Eddie just shakes his head no and sighs, placing the joint down on the glass patio table. 

“It’s today.” 

“Huh?”

Eddie turns to face him and raises both eyebrows. “It’s. Today. My birthday. It’s today.” 

“Wait— shit, really? And you’re telling me?” Steve’s heart pounds in his chest, not blind to the gravity of Eddie telling him his closest kept secret. 

Eddie shrugs and smiles without it touching his eyes. “Guess so. Take it to your grave, please?” 

“Well yeah, man, I don’t make a habit of going around and telling people’s secrets. But… thanks? For trusting me?” Steve reaches the few inches to Eddie’s shoulder and lets his hand rest there. It's contact but it's not enough. It’s never really enough, but it has to be. He has no reason to think Eddie feels the same way about him and he’ll be damned if he loses his best friend— second only to Robin, but that’s besides the point. The point is, he rests his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and lets his fingers move in slow repetitive circles into the fabric of Eddie’s jacket. 

“You’re welcome. It’s just— I have some… not so great memories attached to my birthday so I don’t celebrate it. Rather it just not exist, to be honest.” 

“Well, since it’s a big secret, you could just make it another day, y’know. We’ll all respect it and you can, like, create new memories and start over.”

Eddie glances down at Steve’s hand wandering, absentmindedly trailing his fingers along the base of his neck and to collarbone. Fuck his birthday, and fuck the horrible memories Clyde Munson had poured into it. The way his heart tumbles from his chest into his mouth negates all of it. 

“Really? Any suggestions?” He breathes, relieved that Steve doesn’t pry. He’s learned enough about Steve’s own childhood though to imagine why he doesn’t. For all of their outward differences, Steve gets it. Gets him. 

Steve watches Eddie’s eyes widen before they glance down at his hand and back up, filled with something that looks dangerously like hope. Steve, in turn, feels something dangerously like hope. 

“Maybe the day you woke up? In the hospital? I don’t know, I can see you liking the whole phoenix thing. Rebirth into something beautiful or whatever.” 

Eddie’s breath catches. Beautiful feels like an overinflated balloon floating precariously through the woods in Steve’s backyard— cheerful and buoyant, but always at the risk of catching on too sharp of a branch and tumbling back down to the hard ground. 

“Beautiful, huh?” 

“Yeah. It fits you.” Steve’s hand wanders again, this time intentionally, to brush a piece of Eddie’s hair behind his ear and cupping the side of his face. 

“Steve…” He whispers as they move slowly— achingly slowly— together, as though attached by an invisible thread. And maybe they are— the little red string of fate that’s been pulling them closer and closer since the day they met. Close enough now, finally, for Eddie to know how Steve’s lips feel against his, how his hands feel in his hair, how his heart beats in his chest when Eddie presses one hand there to tether himself to reality with nothing. No one but his stars watch him find his way back home, to Steve, where he should've been all along.

Eddie’s new birthday becomes April 2nd, the day he’d woken up from the induced coma. Eddie and Steve’s anniversary becomes February 9th, his old birthday. He can’t imagine a better way to create beauty out of ashes.

[jacesvelaryons]

could you do a tom blyth social media ai where sadie sink is the faceclaim!?

hi my love, of course. i hope you like it! please continue to comment, like, subscribe send me requests or just hit my asks to let me know how i’m doing.

sorry this took so long 😭

auburn hair (tom blyth x actress!reader social media au)

masterlist

requests OPEN

yourusername

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liked by tomblyth, justinbieber, chloebailey and others

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thehollywoodreporter

liked by person7264 and others

we report actor tom blyth @/tomblyth and actress y/n l/n @/yourusername being very cozy and intimate at last week’s annual hollywood gala dinner. the two have since quietly confirmed through their agencies that they have been in a committed relationship for over a year and ask for everyone to respect the privacy of their romance.

fans82 the joint net worth of this couple must be CRAZYY 💀💀

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tomblyth

liked by mayahawke and others

let's go back.

rachelzegler looked like so much fun while I was recording all day 🙄

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going on a trip.

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↩️

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↩️tomblyth offered you one and you said you didn’t one until you took a bite out of mine

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[marzipanandminutiae]

i'd love to learn just how victorian rational dress reformists would react at contemporary feminine hairstyles!

...in a similar line of thought do we have any records about their opinions on the Practicality of little girls hair or even the 20's bob (if some lived to see it)?

I'm not sure!

One of their biggest beefs with hair in their own time was often with hairpieces: false buns, curls, bangs/fringes, etc. used to augment one's natural hair. I'm not sure if they felt it weighed the head down or the extra pins were uncomfortable or what, but they didn't like it. false hair still exists, but its popularity has vastly waned. so maybe they'd think we had solved some issues- though long hair worn loose all the time would probably be seen as Hampering to women's daily activity

You do see some advocacy for short hair as an easier and sometimes healthier (??) option, but more often I've seen artistic and/or Dress Reform-oriented women with short hair who said nothing about it. You also have men who are...clearly just into ladies with short hair writing long Ye Olde Thinkpieces about how great it is. I mean, no shame there, I guess- everyone has their Thing. And while short hair on women was unusual, the Victwardians didn't seem to regard it with the same massive distrust and hand-wringing as conservative commentators of the 1920s did. Perhaps because it was less widespread?

The idea that little girls not only could have short hair but should was fairly common throughout the 19th century, obviously with variations. Similar reasoning was in play to that you might expect nowadays: that it was easier to care for, and that an active child wouldn't be hindered by it. there was also an idea, similar to that which led some women's hair to be cut off during serious illness, that short hair kept the head cooler and prevented or lowered fevers. I've actually read an admonition to keep children's hair short for just that reason in a book from the 1830s- The Ladies' Medical Oracle, by Elizabeth Mott. obviously this wasn't universal- see also: the original Alice in Wonderland illustrations, although it's worth noting that the real Alice Liddell had a bob as a child

(yes, little girls were expected to be active to a degree- even more if you're reading a book by someone who has experience with Actual Human Children. some doctors fretted that the uterus would be damaged by too much physical activity, but it seems like in practice, parents' were...again, aware of how real children behave. Longfellow's 1860 poem The Children's Hour describes his daughters storming his office to shower him with affection, quite energetically, and it was a smash hit)

as for how they reacted to 1920s bobs...well, most of the adult adopters thereof had at least lived through part of the Long Hair As Default For Women Edwardian era, and their thoughts ranged greatly on the subject. In fact, essays by Irene Castle (believed to be the originator of the trend in her late 20s c. 1913 or 1914, long before it caught on properly) and Mary Pickford (a late adopter at age 36 c. 1928) on why they had vs. hadn't cut their hair are often paired together as a commentary on how the trend was seen, along with others. sometimes these essays are rather strange- one wonders why these women, who must have lived when adult women all wore their hair up every day, describe the alleged oppression of "long, trailing locks." I guess when what you like has some social unacceptability, you might be inclined to phrase things in black and white thus

Dress reformers of the 1920s were more concerned with the deleterious effects of high-heeled shoes and the general idea that young women were encouraged to be too frivolous- and too loose in their sexual morals, as represented by the "short skirts"- actually about calf-length -and low-backed evening gowns of the era. that sounds kind of weird today, in the era of sex positivity, but earlier dress reform had, with a few exceptions, disavowed ideas of sexual freedom as thoroughly as mainstream society did. and I kind of get it- the notion that they advocated "free love" was often used to discredit genuine women's rights groups. still they weren't totally immune to sexual mores of their time, and some likely genuinely believed what they were saying

and that's not even getting into the Coiffure a la Titus trend of the late 18th-early 19th century, which had advocates claiming it was the best thing ever and detractors insisting it would result in women catching colds all the time. it was ever thus

anyway that's a bit of a long-winded answer, but I hope it helps!

[ilovetheoutsiders2much]

Rip Dallas Winston you probably would’ve liked the reddit storys on tiktok

Rip Ponyboy Curtis you probably would’ve liked booktok and Barnes & Knobles

Rip Darry Curtis you probably would’ve liked single parents tiktok

Rip Johnny Cade you probably would’ve liked scamming little kids on roblox adopt me

Rip Two-Bit Matthew’s you would LOVE disney+

Rip Sodapop Curtis you probably would’ve liked some of the new cars that they have in 2023-2024

Rip Steve Randle you probably would’ve liked to show off on instagram and tiktok

Rip Bob Sheldon you probably would’ve liked the rich kids today making grwm’s

Rip Randy Anderson you probably would’ve liked the tiktok reddit story’s of bestfriends being backstabbers

Rip Cherry Valance you probably would’ve liked tiktok grwm’s

Rip Marcia (idk her last name) you probably would’ve liked fashion famous or dress to impress on roblox

[cyandreamz]

❁Pearl Fey and Trucy Wright hanging out❁

Today I finished this drawing and honestly, I love it so much! makes sense since I drew most of this with my left (main) hand (used right hand for a good chunk of the sketch to help maintain being somewhat ambidextrous) and, got to use an art medium I haven't used in almost a year, after buying some cheap alcohol markers (cheaper than sharpie's cheap) a few weeks ago.

(rest of post has minor spoilers for AA2-5, mostly AA4-5 but I do mention very minor spoilers for AA2-3)

I've been wanting to draw Pearl for a while, especially after seeing her in the DD DLC case (which is my fave case from DD) but than on the 18th I read this fanfic by Samioli and, it was so cute! It made me want to draw Pearl even more! To clarify this isn't fanart of the fic (idk if I ship Pearl and Trucy but I do see them as childhood bffs) but, I do hc Pearly as lesbian thanks to the fic and, I still wanted to recommend it cuz it's such an amazing fic and, it motivated me to draw Pearly hanging out with Trucy.

okay now back to talking about the drawing XD. I decided to re-design both girl's hair-do's and I'm very glad I did. I like Trucy's canon hair but as mentioned in this post I originally thought her official sprite had a bob, and now that I drew her with a bob I think I might continue doing so! Also I don't think she has an ahoge in canon but, I think it suits her so I will always give her one :3 (Edit, turns out she does have an ahoge and it's even cuter that the one I gave her so in future I will draw her with her canon ahoge)

As for Pearl, I dislike that her model in DD basically is just a taller version of her child sprites in AA2-3, so after making some thumbnails on a different page of hair-do ideas, I decided on a hairstyle that's similar to her canon hair-do but, more interesting imo, especially since I made the braids heart shaped on purpose cuz it references her love of romance (very on the nose, but being on the nose is kinda on brand for AA).

I also had a lot of fun designing these outfits for them both! Trucy's bag is of course a playing card and I picked 8 of diamonds cuz she has a diamond motif in canon and, was adopted by Phoenix when she was 8! Her jeans also have a two patches, one of her first daddy's hat/her hat when she was a child and a bunny, cuz that's magic related and cute lol. Also gave her a bracelet that kinda references Apollo but kinda doesn't, because it's on the wrong arm (didn't want it to crowd the hand holding pose!) and it's sliver because I didn't want to add yellow to the colour pallet :P

Pearl's outfit was loosely inspired by fairy-kei fashion as I feel like Pearl would enjoy Fairy-kei and Yumekawaii but not strictly follow a jfashion style. I also gave Pearl glasses. Not only make her look more unique compared to her canon child design but also, cuz AA doesn't have enough characters with glasses imo and I think they look super cute on her! I did consider giving her heart lenses but, I think that might be over doing the heart motif so I made them round instead :P

[krills-art-cafe]

[fizhingtrawl]

“Delivery!”

“Uhhh Just..Sign here!”

@krill-does-art

[spaghetti-household]

//No asks today, sorry TvT

But here's some doodles and designs of Savy in different Pizza Tower AUs! I've been thinking about this for a while and I thought it would be fun to see her in other AUs so I finally did it!

AU CREDITS:

OG Pizza Tower

Sugary Spire

Evil Pep ( inspired by @rascal-rose's take)

TV Tower AU - @tv-tower

Mafia AU ( inspired by @pizzatowermafia / @bob-mirum's AU)

Sugary Swap - @brown-sugar-89

Killer Pep - @kairokust

Roller Rink AU - @roller-rink-pizza-tower-au

I even have short stories of how I think Savy could fit into the AUs

AU summaries

Sugary Spire: Spezia (Savy) was "adopted" by Pizzano as his sidekick out of the blue but she doesn't give three fricks. She's kinda mean but she'll be nice to you when she feels like it.

Evil Pep: She is reserved and slightly sheltered by Pep out of fear that she'll be exposed to bad influences especially in the business he's in. She only understands a little bit of english but is heavily fluent and speaks in Italian.

TV Tower: She's a big fangirl of the tower but is a rascal and is able to sneak in through the cracks almost all the time. Security gave up a long time trying to keep her out so they just let her in, she doesn't do any harm anyway.

Mafia: She used to belong to a different mafia gang until Pep's gang raided them. Seeing that she's just a kid, they took her in as a recuit. She doesn't work for them, instead, the members take turns in babysitting her.

Sugary Swap: Spezie Dolci Cannoli (or Spezie for short) is the adopted daughter of Creampuff Cannoli. She just looks up to her dad even though he's kind of a mess.

Killer Pep: One day, she just snuck in and made herself at home. Pep wanted to kill her at first but she was just a kid, very defenseless, so he reluctantly let her stay. (Still debating whether she's a cannibal or not bc it would be a symbiotic dynamic for her and Pep if ther were the case lol).

Roller Rink: She's a student of Pep's, keeps falling on her face in the most inconvenient times and loses balance out of nowhere. She's still fine somehow. Her biological dad and Peppino are good friends.

Alr, i'm done. It's almost 3 am and I'm exhausted ;v;

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Zahra explains perfectly the influence of the Rastafarian movement on Eastern Europe as a symbol of change and freedom after the fall of the USSR. The music and culture of Jamaica has touched this part of the world in a profound way!

Many Eastern Europeans grew up with ska and reggae music, picking up the culture that came with it, along with the style (colors, clothes, hair, jewelry, lifestyle) of the famous raggae musicians at the time. They know about the history of Jamaica and Reggae and the message behind it, which became important to their lives in a time of political change.

Rastafarianism mixed with the local culture, creating subcultures. Since music has a global reach, many Eastern Europeans created their own raggae bands and sung in their own language, sometimes mixing raggae with their local folk music. As Zahra explained, Jamaicans are excited and welcoming to people who have adopted this style around the world and who have their own ska and raggae subculture (like Polish reggae, since reggae there is mainstream).

The movement also touched the Balkans and it's been going on for decades now, although it's not very popular today. One person in the comments wrote "There's a Bob Marley statue in my small serbian village, that should tell you everything lol" 😂

I know in Greece there are still shops that sell clothes and jewelry of this style and some even braid or mat your hair. (Or sell hair extensions) There's still Greek raggae music played in beach bars sometimes. But in Cyprus raggae has grown roots because political change was also strong there during the last decades and people adopted the culture quickly.

Note: Some people dressing like this follow the Hippie subculture which has roots in Rastafarian subculture.

[rose-pearls]

The rest is still unwritten

So apparently we are getting a Top Gun 3?!! I am so excited but I do hope the whole Dagger Squad comes back because I love them! I the mean time enjoy this little thing!

Summary: Going back to work after the holidays is always hard but luckily you have Bob by your side.

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

Top Gun Taglist: @bisexual-watermelons (open)

Going back to work after the end of the year celebrations was always hard, but somehow it was even harder this year. 

You had spent the whole Christmas vacation celebrating with the Daggers, in Maverick and Iceman’s house. The smell of hot chocolate and warm cookies still seemed to follow you as you went back home with Bob. Your phone was filled with memories and although you wanted to just turn back time you couldn’t. 

Work had been a bit nicer than you had expected it, wasting some time while talking away with your colleagues about what had happened during your two weeks off. But ultimately you did have to get back to work and try not to spend too much time reminiscing.

“What did you get for Christmas?”, you suddenly hear your colleague, Nancy, ask you. She has a secretive smile, and her eyes seem to be sparkling a lot for a woman who was coming back to work.

“We did a secret Santa, so I received a guide on how to date a Naval aviator from a friend,” you tell her with a smile on your lips, remembering Hangman’s wink when you opened the book, telling you that now you would be an expert girlfriend for Bob.

“Bob got me a necklace that I had been looking at for some time and his parents got us all a trip to Disneyworld in the summer,” you don’t tell her that it wasn’t Bob’s parents that got you tickets for the trip, but that it was Maverick and Iceman. Bob had lost his parents quite young, and he got a lot closer to the older men after the mission, the two of them practically adopting him.

“That is so sweet!”, she says, and you suddenly realize you haven’t asked her about her gift.

“What about you?”, you ask her quickly, ignoring your laptop and the countless emails on it.

“This happened,” she says and before you can ask what she shoves her hand in front of you and you see an engagement ring adorning her finger.

“Wait, your girlfriend proposed?”, you can’t help but say, feeling at loss of words and she quickly nods, an excited smile appearing.

“Congratulation! I am so excited for you!”, you can’t help but say as you leave your desk to hug her in congratulations. 

“Thank you, it all happened so quickly,” she says, and you nod quickly before sitting back down and nodding towards the other chair to make her sit next to you.

“Tell me everything,” you say, and an even bigger smile appears as she starts telling the story.

--

“You will never guess what Nancy told me today,” Bob hears you say as you come home, and he can’t help but turn around in curiosity.

“Should I be worried?”, he asks with a teasing smile as you approach him, you look tired but there is a soft smile on your lips that makes him feel at ease.

“Nothing bad, I promise,” you say before kissing him softly on the lips, he quickly wraps his arm around your waist to bring you closer, enjoying the feeling of you in his arms. It had been weird not to have you by his side today, after spending all of your time together these last two weeks.

“So, what happened?”, he asks after a couple of minutes have passed and you seem to realize you haven’t told him yet, an excited smile appearing on your lips.

“Nancy’s girlfriend proposed!”, you tell him, and Bob can’t help but feel excited at the thought.

“No way?! That is incredible,” he says, and you nod in agreement.

“And we are invited to the wedding!”, he can’t help but smile as you start to list off the details that you already got out of Nancy about the weeding. 

You had always been a beautiful woman; Bob had fallen for you the moment he saw you. There wasn’t only just beauty, as you managed to sweep him off his feet with your debates and fun facts that you somehow remembered when you couldn’t even remember where you had parked the car. He had been surprised that you had gone for him, but then again, the Daggers had always said he needed to work on his self-esteem, particularly a drunk Jake who had told him he would’ve gone for him if he hadn’t been with Rooster. 

There was a ring in his locker, waiting for the right moment to be brought out but he didn’t know when the right time was. He knew that Christmas wasn’t the right time as it was more a family time.

He had talked about it with Phoenix, and she had quickly helped him figure out the perfect time to do it, not on Valentine’s Day as it would be too cliché and your birthday was also out of the question as he wanted it to be your day. So, the two decided on the Disneyworld trip, he knew that you loved to go there, and he could easily ask the Daggers help with the planning of it.

The only thing he needed to do now was work out the details and try not to spill the question before that. 

“But anyways, how was your day at work?”, she asks bringing him back to reality. 

“Nothing really happened, Phoenix and I went in the air to try a new maneuver, but we still need to work on it. And you?”, he listens as you explain what your coworkers had told you about their holydays and how your boss was already driving you mad. 

“I mean he is a complete idiot,” Bob says, and you nod in agreement, your mouth currently stuffed with a spoonful of sauce.

“I know right? By the way this is delicious,” Bob can’t help but blush under the praise, still not used to them after all this time.

He is ready to continue your conversation before a song starts to play that he knows all too well, your excited yell at the song makes him laugh and roll his eyes fondly.

“Common Bobby, we need to dance to this.”, he barely has time to cut the stove off before you drag him by the hand in the middle of the living room and put the music louder.

The chorus of Unwritten starts and Bob can’t help but yell the lyrics with you, feeling lighter than he has all day. He takes your hand and starts twirling the both of you around the room, making the both of you laugh as you sing the lyrics to the song.

The song had been in a movie that you had watched with the Dagger squad, it was called ‘Anyone but you’ and every time someone tried to mention that the Ben guy looked a lot like Hangman the man would roll his eyes and say that he was ‘way’ more handsome than him.

Ever since then the whole squad had been singing the song on repeat, even Iceman had been dancing to it, with Maverick who had been looking at him with heart eyes.

Now, even with only the two of you dancing in the living room he couldn’t help but feel incredibly happy and lucky. And as you twirl into his arms, slightly breathless he can’t help himself but bring you into a loving kiss. 

“Love you Bobby,”, he hears you whisper, and he can’t stop smiling.

“Love you too beautiful,” he whispers back, holding you as close as possible as the two of you still dance softly on the carpet.

He knew that the both of you would have to eventually go back to the kitchen and get back to your life but in that moment, he couldn’t help but just enjoy the moment with you. 

[bitter69uk]

Q: What are you thankful for? A: “My health and my family. And Lana Del Rey.” John Waters interviewed in AnotherMan magazine, 2018

“She’s unearthly suburban and unreasonably talented, and she can pretend to be a normal person. I think of the ad campaign for Russ Meyer’s Lorna... [The tagline] could go for her: ‘Longing, love, lust, life, Lana. Too much for one man.’” John Waters interviewed in Harper’s Bazaar, 2023

Q: What is it you like about Lana Del Rey? “She’s very David Lynch to me. Everyone makes fun of her, but that first album [Born to Die] was on the Billboard chart for three years, longer than a Kid Rock album. She infuriates people, but I think she’s in on it. I really want her to hook up with David Lynch, because he produces great albums these days.” John Waters interviewed in Rolling Stone, 2014

“She tells a story in her music. She gives a mood and a story and a way to think, and she paints a picture in your brain.” David Lynch interviewed in Harper’s Bazaar, 2023 Happy 39th birthday to pop’s alienated and complicated dark princess, the glorious Lana Del Rey (née Elizabeth Woolridge Grant, 21 June 1985). Remember when the “gangster Nancy Sinatra” first emerged with Born to Die in 2012 and uptight stale pale male rockist cultural gatekeepers bugged-out, labelling her a phony because she wasn’t really some trailer park Laura Palmer-type and she’d adopted a show biz name (guess what? “Bob Dylan” and “David Bowie” aren’t their real names, either!). Seems like a lifetime ago! And all these years later, the defiant and triumphant Del Rey is a veteran artist with an entirely singular body of work under her belt. My favourite tracks by her vary all the time but today let’s say it’s “White Mustang” from 2017. Now sing along with me: “My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola / My eyes are wide like cherry pies …” Pictured: bad girl Del Rey photographed by Nadia Lee Cohen for the February 2023 issue of Interview magazine. Styled by Mel Ottenberg.