#Hoover Fork

[forlornmelody]

Today's List of Nice Things:

Wrote about 300 words for Outlaws. Finished one scene and continued with a couple others.

After watching The World To Come, I needed queer comedy as a palate cleanser, so I started watching Hacks. And I love it so far.

Had a really healing meditation sesh in the park. I feel like I left the park a different person.

Omg omg omg. Batman has to get Ivy's help in Arkham Asylum. Spending weeks on the Scarecrow nightmares will be worth it for this.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Dogs II

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle x Child!Reader

Summary: You don't like Ona

Mum and Mummy break up.

That's what they tell you anyway.

They say they're not in love with each other anymore.

You ask if that means they don't love you anymore.

They say no.

You ask if that means they don't love Narla anymore.

They say no.

You tell them that as long as you and Narla can stay together then it's fine.

Mum and Mummy call it a custody schedule. It means that you spend two week sleeping at Mum's house and then two weeks sleeping at Mummy's house.

Narla comes with you too.

You have the same custody schedule as her.

Things are different now that you don't all live together. Most of the different things are at Mum's house.

Like Ona.

She's from the bad Manchester and she's been hanging around the house a lot. You don't know what to make of her but you don't like the way she's taken Mummy's old seat at the table or the way that she's been sleeping on Mummy's side of the bed.

She sits in the front seat of the car too when Mum drives to training and does other things like the laundry or the hoovering in the house.

It's weird because none of Mum's other friends do that.

You stare at the food in front of you, poking at it with your fork.

Mum sits opposite you and Ona sits next to her, both of them digging into the meal that Ona made after practice was finished.

You sniff it.

It doesn't smell like food Mummy would normally cook and you look down at the floor, where Narla is waiting.

You dump your food onto the floor for her.

"Hey!" Mum catches you doing it and you wilt a little at her stern voice. "That's not very nice. Ona cooked for us."

You wrinkle your nose. "No."

"Yes, she did."

You shake your head.

"Sorry," She says to Ona," She's not usually like this." She turns back to you just as you dump another forkful of food onto the floor for Narla. "Hey! Stop it! Eat your food!"

"No." You stick your tongue out.

"It's not a question."

You dump more food on the floor. Narla's having a lot of fun eating it.

You're glad she's having fun because Mum very quickly puts you on the naughty step to 'think about your actions' before she returns to the table to eat.

"I swear she's not usually like this," Lucy says," I've no idea why she's acting like this."

"It's okay," Ona says, though the pit in her stomach at not getting you to like her is deep," She'll come around."

Ona's not quite sure what she's doing wrong. She's good with kids. She knows she's good with kids. Everyone's told her she's good with kids.

She just isn't sure why she isn't good with you.

She's tried everything. Toys. Food. Tv time.

But you just don't seem very happy with any of it.

You shuffle away when she sits next to you. You don't play with the toys she buys. You feed her food to Narla.

Ona's unsure how she's meant to win you over.

She stews on it on the sofa as Lucy gives you your bath. She forces herself to take her mind of it by scrolling through her phone, stopping on a picture of Coco she took just last night.

"Pup," Ona hears Lucy say," Say goodnight to Ona, please."

"No."

"Pup," Lucy's voice is firmer than before," Say goodnight to Ona or I'll call Mummy and tell her about how bad you're being."

That gets you moving and you shuffle over to the sofa.

"Goodnight, Ona," You say begrudgingly. You make a move to leave before you catch sight of the picture on her phone. "Is puppy."

"Er...yes," Ona says.

You shuffle closer, hands resting on Ona's leg as you lean to get a closer look.

"Is not my puppy. Is it yours?"

"This is Coco," Ona says," He's mine, yeah."

"Is he friendly?"

"Very."

"He likes dogs too?"

"Yeah."

You turn to Lucy with a disgruntled face. "Why you not say Ona has a puppy? I want to see her puppy!"

Your sudden turnaround shocks a laugh out of Lucy.

"Sorry, pup," She says," I didn't know you'd want to see Ona's dog."

You turn back to Ona. "I love puppies," You tell her," Why you not bring your puppy to see me and Narla?"

"I can bring him next time."

You nod. "Good." You grab Ona's hand. "Got a story about puppies. For my bedtime story. Read to me please?"

Ona grins, tightening her grip on your hand. "I'd love to."

[squirrelreads91]

I just finished Verity last night. All I have to say is, what the fuck of the what the fuck.

I was warned. My friend said I'd be like 😳 but here we are, completely shook and in a massive book hangover. Definitely worth the read for anyone on the fence, here I'd been thinking Colleen Hoover was a romance writer but apparently no, just break my brain.

[thegnomelord]

Ahh I love the food thing that you got asked <3 food can have such a special place in our lives it's so precious

Ya think Hound develop concerning eating habits due to Makarov? Due to the whole stressful situation

I just want someone in the 141 to cook him a meal, filled with love and care, maybe Hound is in the kitchen watching them cook it for his own security.

I just want him to have a nice meal 😔

-🐙

I do feel like Hound would have some food hoarding habits or just distrust about eating something he didn't make himself. It wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten drugged through food...

But the 141 making food communally would be a fun idea lol so here's a quick brain fart :D :

You feel out of place. Well, you're always out of place, but you feel especially out of place sitting at the table while Soap and and Gaz busy themselves by the stove, Price humming to himself to the side as he gets the mugs to make tea. Ghost sits next to you grumbling under his breath, both of you in 'time-out' — you hadn't done anything (save for not being trusted around anything sharp), it's Ghost that had gone and microwaved beans in the can. Now Johnny swears up and down the microwave is possessed.

Your eyes flicker between Soap and Gaz, watching them cook you don't even know what. The only British 'cuisine' you know of is the cremated steaks Price would sometimes make you before. . . that. But nothing the two are making smells nearly as bad as the charred hockey pucks Price would feed you and Simon.

"Hey!" Your brought out of your thoughts in time to see Kyle swat away Price's hand with his spatula. "Don't you dare cap! I'm not about to get rained on because of your bad cooking." You hadn't considered Gaz could take charge, too soft in your eyes, but you're surprised by how tight of a ship he runs when he's by the stove.

"Alright, alright." Price huffs while Ghost lets out an amused huff. He's not quite laughing, but you can see the subtle tremor of his shoulders in silent laughter.

That gets Soap to point a spoon in Ghost's direction. "Oh yer one te fockin' giggle. Mr. 'ah cursed the damn microwave with me beans'."

"Sod off." Simon grunts, but there's no edge to his words. Soap tuts, but soon enough starts off rambling about something you're not quite able to follow along to when your eyes once again focus on where their arms are, how they move, paying especially close attention any time they rest them by their sides (even though realistically you doubt they'd try to drug the same food they'd eat).

You still tense when you feel Price's hand on your back, only now noticing that you'd started hunching your back, your shoulders raised closer to your ears. "You're alright, straighten your spine, sweetheart." His voice is calm, his hand warm as he applies gentle pressure on your back until you straighten back out. "There you go, good man." He rumbles, hand going up to ruffle your hair before he pulls away before his touch can turn into stinging pain to your skin.

You blink as a plate full of food is placed in front of you. The food smells good and doesn't look like it had been cremated, made with care you don't deserve. "I. . ." You don't know why but your throat feels clogged, like someone had poured hot tar into your mouth and forced you to swallow, the collar around your throat constricting your breathing even more.

Simon's shoulder bumps into yours, "If you don't eat that I will." The childish threat makes you breathe out a small laugh.

"Aye, the bastard's like Henry the hoover, he'll eat anything." Soap supplies as he sits down opposite of you with his own plate. Though you get the impression he's talking about himself when he stabs a sausage with a fork and almost inhales the entire thing.

"Mhm," You grunt, taking the fork. "I don't doubt it." You stab a piece of black pudding. It tastes earthy, but the small coppery tang of blood sizzles down your nerves, but fuck it tastes good.

"Look at that, is it good?" Kyle chuckles as he watches your facial features shift as you swallow the food, his own face that of pride like he already knows your answer, but you nod your head all the same.

[luveline]

jade u angel <3 here is a cookie🍪 in exchange for shy!reader hurting themselves on something (idk like a headbump or chin graze or something) whilst not with remus but being too scared to tell remus what happened??? i once smacked my forehead on a cabinet (LOL) and i was outraged i never got a tender kiss it better forehead smooch tbh

hello! ty for ur request, i hope this is ok <3

Remus doesn’t notice what you’ve done until he’s persuaded you into his side on the sofa. You’re talking quietly about the book you’ve read over the weekend and how it had disappointed you sorely.

Remus, who hasn’t read the book but feels like he might as well have from your commentary, clears his throat to say, “Why would she end it like that? There’s a baker's dozen of loose ends.”

“Money. I bet they’ll announce a sequel and then we’ll all have to fork out a small fortune for a story she should’ve given us in the first,” you grumble.

He laughs, really laughs, startled by your passionate vitriol. “I bet they will,” he agrees, kissing your forehead, so full of affection for you he could burst. He’s half-opened his mouth to try and say something funny when he realises you've gone rigid under his touch.

He pulls away to look at you. You don’t look at him, your eyes almost shut in a wince.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“Nothing, why?”

He pulls his arm from around your shoulders to angle your face gently toward the light, thumb pushed into the soft of your cheek. There, across your temple, is a faint bruise. Red and darker towards the edges. Remus can’t believe he missed it.

“How have you done that?” he asks, sympathetic.

“What?”

His chin dips toward his chest and he pouts unhappily. “What do you mean, sweetheart? You’ve got a bruise across your head.” He strokes along the edge with the tip of his ring finger. “I know that hurts.”

“Not really.”

He holds your face carefully in both hands and sits up properly to look at it. It’s a newer bruise. He imagines by tomorrow it’ll look worse, yellow and purple and hurting.

“What happened?” He says it in a way that leaves little room for any flippancy. You're a quiet girl. While he wouldn’t have you any other way, gentleness doesn’t always seem to work on you.

“Hit it on the kitchen table,” you confess sheepishly.

He turns your face to his and rubs at your cheeks lovingly. “Hoovering?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, well, you’re never hoovering again.” He laughs at your disenfranchised expression. “Like you’ll miss it!”

“I will miss it. I like hoovering.”

“Okay.” He presses a tender kiss to the skin just shy of your mean bruise. “Freak,” he murmurs.

You giggle and melt into his affection, your hands coming to rest flat against his chest.

He’s never one to deprive you of a kiss but when you lean in he evades to ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to, but I felt weird. Don’t wanna make a big deal out of nothing.”

“That’s unfair. What if I do? I love making mountains of molehills, you know that.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. He’s delighted to hear a hint of sarcasm in your words.

“You should be.” You move in for a kiss and he lets you have it, though he does pause between breaths to say, “You have to tell me when you get hurt. Boyfriend rules.”

You nod and he kisses you silly to say thank you.

[drpeppertummy]

switchin things around & fantasizing about food i dont have

[stuffing, tummyache, tummy rubs]

"Hey Laurie, what's the status on the chicken?"

"Almost done," she said, giving the cabbage a stir as she watched the cutlets sizzle away. She took a spoonful, blew on it gently, and tasted it.

"And the cabbage is ready," she added.

"Groovy," said Sunny. "This is gonna time out perfect. Hey, does this taste right?" He handed her a forkful of potato salad. Rather than take the fork, Laurie leaned forward and let him feed it to her.

"Perfect. Good job," she said, tousling his hair. He beamed up at her. Smiling, she turned back to the stove to check the chicken, and Sunny tossed the spätzle around in the pan. At Laurie's advice, he'd added a lot of butter, and the smell was fantastic, as was the smell of everything else. To Laurie, the kitchen smelled like holidays with the family, but today it was just the two of them. Sunny had asked her about spätzle earlier in the week, having never tried it himself, and after a long, mouth-watering conversation about food, the two had decided to plan a lunch. They'd spent the morning in the kitchen, laughing and bickering and getting in each other's way, and Laurie had spent a lot of time tasting. Too much, in fact; by the time lunch was on the table, she was already full.

The two friends sat down to a beautiful homemade lunch of crispy chicken schnitzel with a fragrant mushroom gravy, accompanied by warm German potato salad, pickled red cabbage, and spätzle fried in butter. They'd made a large amount of everything--Laurie felt that the sides in particular had a habit of running out quickly--and neither of them had been shy in measuring out their own portions. Despite being full from her repeated taste testing, Laurie had been looking forward to the meal for days, and she had no intention of going light.

Sunny's stomach growled loudly, and he scooped up a big bite of spätzle. He'd been tasked with making it while Laurie prepared the chicken, albeit under her close supervision. Her reasoning was that she had a specific way she liked to make the schnitzel, but really, she just found the spätzle-making process annoying. It was easy enough, though, and Sunny had done well.

"Damn, you weren't lying," he said with his mouth full. "This shit rules."

"Try it with the gravy," she said, and he did. He gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. She smiled.

It had been a while since Laurie had enjoyed a meal like this; it was the kind of thing usually reserved for holidays or family reunions. Ignoring her already full stomach, she ate with the same starved enthusiasm as Sunny. It wasn't long, however, before she really began to feel stuffed. Additionally, her tight, high waisted pants were beginning to dig uncomfortably into her belly. Still, the schnitzel would never be as good the next day. She disregarded the growing tightness in her belly and cut off another bite.

Sunny, having hoovered up his lunch like his life depended on it, sat back in his seat and let out a loud burp. Smiling contentedly, he rested his hands on his full tummy. Laurie stifled a laugh.

"For fuck's sakes, Sunny, have a little decorum," she scolded teasingly, pointing at him with her fork.

"It's not polite to point, Lauren," he retorted. She stuck her tongue out at him and continued working on her lunch.

As she ate, Laurie idly placed a hand on her belly, which was long since stuffed and beginning to reach its limit. She was startled at how round it felt. Looking down, she saw that her upper belly was bulging conspicuously over her belt, and the point of her heart-shaped belt buckle was poking uncomfortably into the soft swell of her lower belly. She stared down at her bloated middle for a moment, surprised. Laurie wasn't skinny by any stretch of the imagination, and any evidence of overfullness was often hidden by her pleasantly plump figure. She couldn't remember the last time her tummy had looked this big.

Having relaxed for a moment, Sunny stood up to wash his plate, and Laurie looked back at her own. She didn't have much left; it would've been silly to put the few bites she had back with the leftovers. Hesitantly, she picked her fork back up and continued eating. She was very aware now of how full she was. Her stomach felt very tight, and the belt constricting her distended belly was growing increasingly uncomfortable, but she thought she would be able to finish her lunch without pushing herself into a real stomachache.

Laurie finished the last little bit of schnitzel--that was highest priority, as it wouldn't heat up as well--and moved on to the few chunks of potato salad she had left. She felt like she'd already eaten a ton of it, and the potatoes were heavy and bulky in her stomach. Finishing that was enough to put her over the edge of discomfort. Holding one hand against her now aching belly, she scooped up a forkful of spätzle. There were only a few bites left of that, and, trivial as they seemed superficially, each bite built up the pressure in her stomach just a little bit more. Her soft belly was actually beginning to feel firm and taut under her hand, at least over her tightly packed stomach.

Finally, all that was left on Laurie's plate was a bite of cabbage. Without enthusiasm, she ate it and set her fork back down. She leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh, resting both hands on her bulging belly. Sunny, who was cleaning up, looked over his shoulder at her and froze for a moment. He was just as surprised as she'd been.

"Jeez, Laurie, are you alright?"

"Yeah," she groaned, closing her eyes. "Just give me a second."

"Hey, why don't you go lie down? I'll finish cleaning up," he said.

"No way, I've seen the way you put things away." Laurie stood up cautiously, keeping a hand on her belly. It gurgled ominously at the sudden change in position.

"Well, you can fix it later," said Sunny. "You go lay down. And lose the belt, it's gonna squeeze your guts out your nose." Laurie laughed, snorting.

"You are so fucking repulsive," she giggled, giving him a playful shove. He flashed her a toothy grin and returned to the messy counter. Resigning herself to letting Sunny wreck the organization of her fridge, she left the kitchen and sat down on the couch. While she didn't trust him to put things away the right way, they were both certainly on the same page about the belt. With a soft grunt, she took it off and set it aside, and, after a moment of hesitation, unbuttoned her tight jeans as well. The relief was instant, but she was astonished at how enormously round her belly was now that it was free of its constraints. Sighing, she leaned back against the cushion, hands on her belly.

"You're not allowed to make fun of me for eating too much anymore," Sunny teased as he entered the room.

"That was awfully quick," Laurie said skeptically.

"Well, I just shoved everything all under the table, I'm sure it'll be fine," he joked. He sat down next to her, staring in amazement at her round tummy.

"It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if you did," she said, playfully pinching his side. He jerked away with a squeak, and she laughed.

"You better watch it, Laurie," he said, threatening to poke her belly. Grinning, she grabbed his hand and held it against her stomach.

"I'm putting you to shame today," she said.

"Damn, I'll say," said Sunny, surprised at the firmness under his hand. She let go, but he remained, gently rubbing her tummy. It gurgled softly as it struggled to digest everything she'd stuffed into it.

"Does it hurt?" He looked up.

"A little," she admitted. In addition to the quantity, she'd eaten a little too fast, and there was a big bubble of air fighting against her tightly stretched stomach. Sunny, who was all too familiar with the dangers of fast eating, pressed in lightly as he rubbed, trying to coax it out. Finally, he felt a rumble bubbling up under his hand, and she burped.

"Oh, god, it tasted like mushrooms," she wailed, and the two of them broke out into laughter.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 14/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Six weeks later

“I’ll be home late,” Diana tells him, rushing around as she scrambles to get out the door. “Don’t forget to put the garbage out tonight.”

He nods, sipping from his coffee mug. Frenchie rests her head on his thigh and he gives her a pat, an unspoken promise that they will go for a walk soon. 

“Did you call the cable company?” Diana asks, halting in the doorway of the laundry room. 

“No, but I will,” he says. 

“Okay, thank you,” she continues, collecting shoes, briefcase, purse, travel coffee mug. “Please remember to take your medication. See you tonight.”

She gets as far as the door into the garage, then turns back and hurries over to him, her heels clacking against the tiled floor. She kisses him briefly on the cheek, and then is out the door in a flash, leaving him and Frenchie alone in the house. 

“All right, French Face, let’s go,” he says, and the dog woofs, her tail wagging excitedly. 

The heat of early summer is already warming the pavement, sending the metallic, earthy smell of concrete and dandelions up into his nose. Frenchie trots happily beside him, stopping to inspect bushes and street signs for messages left behind by other dogs. The Children’s House is noisy and chaotic, the older children waiting at the corner for the bus and the younger ones puttering around the driveway as their mother supervises the whole lot from the front porch. She waves and he waves back, then crosses the street so he doesn’t distract the children with his appealing furry friend. 

He’s beginning to sweat by the time they make it back to the house, which exacerbates his already buzzing nerves. From the back of the closet he pulls out his nicest suit, black Armani, and pairs it with a blue dress shirt and black tie. When his wingtips are on his feet and his hair is styled just so, he lets Frenchie outside one last time, then leaves her with a bone that should entertain her for the several hours she’ll be confined to the house. He climbs into his car and navigates out of the neighborhood and then onto the turnpike, his stomach already in knots. 

It’s the lie that bothers him the most, followed closely by the possible outcome if this goes to plan. Sneaking around, lying, obfuscating: these are things he swore he would never do again, promises he made on his knees as his whole life flashed before his eyes. And here he is, letting Diana believe that he will spend the day at work and then helping Fred put together his new entertainment center when he will be nowhere near his office, nor Fred’s house. 

He tried to talk to her about it. Several times, several ways. He made frequent mention of feeling unfulfilled by his work, demonstrated a renewed interest in exploring the unexplained. When his subtlety went unnoticed, he directly told her that he had thought about re-engaging with the FBI and moving back to the DC area. 

“Absolutely not,” she’d said emphatically, setting her fork down and turning more fully toward him in her seat at the kitchen island. “We’re established here, Jeff. I have a career here, we have friends and a mortgage. I’m not interested in starting over again.” 

Just start again.

He attempted to compromise and suggested that he could work out of the Philadelphia field office instead of Quantico or the Hoover if the Bureau would have him back, perhaps even consult as a behavioral specialist. The answer across the board was no. No to relocating, and absolutely no to re-joining the FBI. The level of anger in her response left him feeling hurt and confused, wondering why she was more focused on the quality of his ideas for improving his own happiness than the fact that he’s unhappy in the first place. 

Had she asked, he would have told her that he feels stuck. Stuck in a job that’s no longer fulfilling, stuck in a daily routine that’s become predictable and boring, stuck in a life that he isn’t sure he ever wanted to lead in the first place. Diana herself spends enormous amounts of time at work in Philly, and when she’s home she holes up in the office, on phone call after phone call well into the evening hours. He empathizes with the stressful nature of her job, but he sometimes feels like he doesn’t have a wife at all.

This job posting fell into his lap, literally. Diana brought in the mail and tossed his favorite newspaper unceremoniously in his direction, and he caught it by the folded edge before it fell to the floor. It opened itself to the classifieds, and a particular advertisement caught his eye. 

Seeking Trained and Experienced/Licensed Therapists for Clinical Research

John Hopkins Bayview Medical Center

Department of Psychiatry Administration

It felt like fate. A new city, a new job, one that seeks to find answers to as yet unasked questions. And so he applied, and got a call the very next day. If he’s offered the position, he will have to make a choice: decline and continue slogging through each day of this unfulfilling life, or accept and tell Diana that he’s going, with or without her. At this moment in time, flying down the freeway at seventy miles per hour with Green Day filling his ears, both options are too terrifying to even consider. 

The interchange comes up and he is faced with the first choice that will lead him to a series of others: stay on the turnpike and drive into Philly, or get on 476 and head south. One way to more of the same, the other to the great unknown. 

He exits, taking 476 south, calculating about two hours to Baltimore. 

-

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Spender. I can’t make any promises, but I can tell you that we’re very impressed with your work history and your intended research methodology.”

He stands, accepting the proffered hand and focusing on a firm, confident handshake. 

“Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Bering. If there are any questions that come to mind, anything I may not have answered, please feel free to reach out by phone or email. Based on what you’ve shared about the work you do here, I’m very interested.”

He’s escorted back to the lobby, though he and Mr. Bering continue talking for upwards of fifteen minutes. By the time he walks back through the doors into the late afternoon sun, he feels buoyant and hopeful for the first time that he can remember in years. 

The nature of the research, the opportunity to be a part of a dedicated team and impact the course of treatment for test subjects, his own office, a salary that exceeds his current earnings: it’s all too good to be true. He has the reflexive thought that he can’t wait to tell Diana, but then remembers that she will be anything but happy for him. He’ll have to wait and find out if he gets an offer before he broaches the subject with her—no use overturning the whole apple cart for nothing. 

He returns to his car, too optimistic to be bothered by the parking ticket pinned under one of his windshield wipers, and heads back toward the highway. Just before he gets to the on-ramp, he sees a small coffee shop and decides to stop. This day is already going so well, a cup of decent coffee would only serve to make it even better. 

He waits in line, debating getting a cookie but ultimately deciding not to risk getting crumbs all over his good suit. 

“Hi, welcome in. What can I get for you?” the barista coos with a genuine smile. 

“Just a large black coffee, please. No room.”

“You got it,” she says, throwing him a flirtatious wink that makes him think he should wear this suit more often. 

He pays and makes his way over to the coffee bar to wait. He starts to think about how he might break the news to Diana, but quickly decides to focus on the positive and imagines himself living here, driving into work each day to do something different, maybe even stopping for coffee at this very shop. 

“Latte for Dana,” the barista calls out, sliding a lidded paper cup across the countertop. 

He realizes that the life he’s imagining: his morning routine, his evenings in a one bedroom apartment—ground floor for easy dog walking—don’t include Diana at all. And perhaps that’s because he already knows what her answer will be. 

Just start again. 

He becomes aware of someone standing very near to him, too close to be another patron waiting for their coffee. He looks over to find a very petite woman with red hair and a fair complexion staring at him, an oddly intense expression on her face. She’s quite pretty, but she also looks distraught. 

“Mulder?” she says, her voice husky, and his eyebrows furrow, confused. “Mulder, it’s me,” she says insistently, and it’s clear that she thinks she knows him. 

“Black coffee for Jeff.”

“I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” he says gently, and the way her face falls feels like a punch to the gut. 

“Your name isn’t Mulder?” she asks, her voice growing tight as her eyes well with tears. 

“No, I’m Jeff,” he says, offering his hand reflexively. “Jeff Spender.”

“Oh,” she says, a tiny ghost of a sound, as she places her hand limply in his and allows him to pump it up and down twice. She shakes her head gently, remembering her manners, and then says, “Dana. I’m Dana.”

“I think these are our coffees, Dana,” he says with an attempt at a smile, stepping forward to pick up both cups before handing one to her. 

“Thank you,” she says in a near whisper, wrapping both hands around her cup and staring down at the lid. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, feeling worried for this stranger who is clearly not quite in her right mind. 

She looks up at him, and he’s momentarily taken aback by the icy blue of her eyes. Like ocean water. Like glaciers. Like the sky on a cloudless day. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” she says, much more confidently. 

They both head for the doors of the coffee shop, and he takes two long strides to get ahead of her, holding the door open as she walks through. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, squinting against the sun. 

They stand awkwardly on the sidewalk, and he has an odd feeling of responsibility for her, like he shouldn’t leave her here in the state that she’s in. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, searching her face. “Is there someone you can call?”

She clears her throat and looks at the ground. 

“Yes, my husband. But I’m fine, really. I just have a short drive home,” she insists, though not all that convincingly. 

“Are you local?” he asks, continuing to make conversation for reasons he doesn’t understand. “I might be moving here soon, actually. From Philly.”

“No,” she answers blandly. “Ellicott City.”

“Ah,” he says, bobbing his head. 

Awkwardness descends over them, and though he still feels compelled to see to her safe return home, he accepts that this is where his interaction with her will end. 

“It was nice to meet you, Dana. Take care,” he says, and she looks up at him with some mix of alarm and melancholy. 

“You too…Jeff,” she replies, dazed 

He returns to his car, then sits and watches as she stands on the sidewalk for several minutes looking devastated, then finally climbs into a slate gray BMW. For several more minutes her car sits, unmoving, and eventually she pulls out of the lot and drives away. 

He heads back north, arriving home to an empty house, save for Frenchie. He stashes his suit, changes into running shorts and a T-shirt, and they go on an evening run together, burning off her energy and his excitement. He keeps thinking about the woman at the coffee shop, and how disappointed she seemed that he was not whoever she was looking for. He has the urge to help her somehow, to find this Mulder who must bear some resemblance to him. 

When he gets home, he feeds Frenchie and takes his blood pressure medication, then grabs a pen from the junk drawer and scrawls “Mulder” on a post-it note. Maybe he’ll do some internet sleuthing, just as a project. Maybe he’ll find his doppelganger and tell him that Dana in Ellicott City is trying to find him. 

He eats dinner, showers, and is reading in bed when he hears Diana come in through the front door. There is the thunk of her discarding her heels, the opening and closing of cupboards, the tinkle of ice cubes as she makes herself a drink. He considers pretending to be asleep so he won’t have to lie about his day, and is just closing his book when her voice booms up the stairs. 

“Jeff?!” she says in an alarmingly serious tone that has him scrambling out of bed and down the stairs to see what’s wrong. 

“What is it?” he says, his heart racing and his feet fumbling over the steps. 

He arrives in the kitchen to find her holding the post-it note like it’s a pair of unfamiliar panties, and she looks up at him with a horrified expression. 

“What is this?” she asks, turning it so he can see his own handwriting. 

“I think it’s a name?” he answers, confused by her demeanor. 

“Where did you get it?” she asks sharply. 

He steps forward, taking it from her hand. 

“I was at a coffee shop today and this woman came up to me and called me ‘Mulder.’ She thought I was someone else. I was thinking about maybe looking into it,” he says lightly, downplaying the situation and leaving out the detail about what city he was in when the exchange took place. 

“Looking into what?” she asks, her tone still suspicious and hard. 

“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug, tossing the post-it onto the kitchen counter. “Nothing, I guess. It was just odd. She really seemed sure I was this other person. Forget about it, Diana, it’s not a big deal.”

“What did she look like?” Diana asks, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Who?”

“The woman in the coffee shop.”

He recognizes the true concern here. She’s taking this as a red flag, a bread crumb. The fact that he is hiding something from her only makes the stakes higher. He could tell her about the job interview, or he could let her think that he’s sneaking around again, meeting up with strange women. He decides to go with another lie. 

“Fifties, brown hair, heavy set,” he says convincingly. “She didn’t look familiar to me at all, which is what made it so weird. But honestly, Diana, it’s nothing. You can just throw that out.” He begins to walk away, showing complete disinterest in the post-it and the name written there. “You coming to bed?” he asks, one foot already on the bottom step. 

“In a bit,” she says flatly. “I need to make a phone call.”

He listens as she walks to the office, Frenchie’s claws clicking across the tile as she follows. When the office door closes, Frenchie whines at having been locked out. He hears the murmur of Diana’s voice as she makes a phone call, the pitch of it increasing and then decreasing sharply over and over. 

He makes his way back into bed, turns off the light, and tries to get tired. He thinks about the job, the potential offer, the eventual move. He wonders if Frank and the guys will drive down to visit. He thinks about the woman, Dana, and whether she got home okay. He wonders where he’ll be one year from now. If he’ll be happy. If he’ll be free. 

Just start again. 

Tagging @today-in-fic

[gohnnyjuitar]

finally, it’s time for my wet beast of a legion oc

below i’ve got another picture of him next to his aforementioned twin brother and an (easier to read) transcript of what the ref actually says + more fun facts/bits to his story!

Romulus “Ash”

24 | Cancer | he/him | bisexual pride flag | 6′2″ (forgot to put his height on the ref rip)

STR 10 | PER 6 | END 7 | CHR 3 | INT 7 | AGI 9 | LUCK 2

Neutral Good

Chronic Depression & PTSD

Born and raised Legion alongside his twin brother, Remus. Father is a Centurion in Flagstaff.

Left Legion at 22 just before finishing his training to become a Decanus. Wracked with guilt and nightmares. Changes his name and tries to hide his appearance as he is on the run from his vindictive brother. Hoping to make it across the California border.

Bonus Facts Not Listed

The twins’ birthday is June 30th, 2257. Romulus is the older twin by only about a minute. They were born and raised in Flagstaff.

Their father is Lupus of Flagstaff, a Centurion in high standing with Legate Lanius. Given his name, the twins are often referred to as the “sons of the Wolf”. Remus ends up embracing this nickname more and he wears a wolf pelt on his armor.

Remus spends much of their childhood trying to out-do Romulus and earn their father’s approval. Where Romulus excels in his studies of tactics and leadership, Remus is unrivaled in combat and demands respect from an early age. The more Romulus secretly begins to question his upbringing, the more Remus lives and bleeds Legion.

Romulus and Remus excel in different aspects that their father deemed "good enough". Neither of them got praise often, but the times Romulus would get praise, it was always in a "good job, you're doing much better than your brother" or it was praise in public always when Remus was present. Their father was doing this as a way to "harden" Remus, who was more timid as a young child. While this did exactly that, it also made Remus grow to resent his brother at an early age.

Romulus spoke out against his father and refused to execute a camp full of Legion slaves just before leaving the Legion. As punishment, not only was he subjected to lashings, to prove his loyalty to the Legion and his father, he was put into the arena against a low ranking legionnaire that was one of Romulus’ close companions who was caught freeing slaves in their camp. When Romulus saw this, he refused to fight and threw down his weapons. It was then that their father sent Remus into the arena, who not only struck down Romulus’ companion, but very nearly killed Romulus himself.

When on the run, Romulus picks up the name “Ash” upon entering what was once Ash Fork, Arizona.

Romulus writes poetry in a hand-bound journal :)

Romulus’ weapons of choice are a compound bow and a machete, but he is also trained in hand-to-hand combat. He would always prefer to avoid combat if given the chance, however.

He ends up becoming a companion of the Courier 6, Rosemary Rosario, and the two develop feelings for one another.

There are several close calls with Remus in the New Vegas area, but it all comes to a head at the Second Battle for Hoover Dam. (Unsure which twin actually survives this encounter. Up to the reader, I guess (wink))

Traits

Heavy Handed

Hot Blooded

Perks

Comprehension

Travel Light

Toughness

Nerves of Steel

[runwithwolvcs]

Right Where You Left Me

Monster Inside Of Me

“You’ve seen one? Like a bad one?” I asked what felt like the millionth question since he had come back from patrol.  I had been antsy all day because of it. Paul had up and left mid movie after multiple howls sounded through my window, signalling trouble.

“They’re all bad, Saskia.” Paul tells me as I absentmindedly play with his fingers

I click my tongue at this. Theoretically, yes, they are all dangerous. But from what Bella has said of the Cullens, despite her odd obsession with them, they aren’t bad people. They weren’t always vampires. Paul doesn’t hide his disdain for my opinion on them, all he sees is black and white. Threat versus no threat. I can’t blame him. His entire life was shifted upside down because of them, though I would like to think he considers the imprint as a perk.

He sighs, “Yes, in some clearing in Forks, with Bella. But he's dead now, so you don’t have to worry about him, okay?”

I nod my head, “Jake said the Cullens were vegetarian.”

“Mhm.” He mumbles, and I don’t have to look at him to know he’s just rolled his eyes.

“No more vampire talk for today.” I reassured him, the subject was touchy for him whenever I asked about his patrol shifts. Though I was grateful he opened up enough to ease my mind. I comb my fingers through his growing hair, “Are you going to cut it again?”

“Eventually I will have to.” Paul admits, a teasing grin forming on his face as he mentions, “But somebody said they liked it longer.”

“I’d have to agree with whoever that was,” I note, whispering in his ear, “There's more to grab on to.”

I lightly tugged his hair so that we were eye level, before letting go completely and cupping his jaw. Pressing a small kiss to his soft lips that he’s quick to reciprocate,“You know, I was thinking the same thing about your ass in these tights.”

Paul picks me up from my spot beside him on the bench with ease and places me in his lap, practically straddling him as his hands lightly massage my ass. I have to hold back a moan as he does. The damn boy has left me touch starved the past two weeks.

“Oh,  bite me.” I quip.

“If you insist.” Paul dips his head, and nips at my neck gently before placing a soft kiss in the exact spot. I can't help but giggle at the action. Even in something as harmless as playfully biting me, he feels the need to counteract it by making sure I knew he didn’t mean to hurt me. As if he ever would.

“You’re growing soft on me, Lahote.” I tell him with a smile. I caress the nape of his neck softly as he hums in response.

“We’re in public, babe. Just you wait.” He winks at me. 

“Oh yeah? Do I at least get a sneak peak at what I’m getting?” 

My phone dings with a message from Emily. She has been privy to letting Kim and I know when muffins are ready before the boys can hoover them all. Though I tend to sneak one for Paul too, imprints honour, you could say.

Looking at the message, I grin, whispering as quietly as I can in his ear so as to not alert the other boys, “Muffins are ready.”

“I’d rather eat you.” he said lowly, “My dads visiting my aunt, we’d have the house to ourselves.” His hand travelled to my ass again and gave it a quick squeeze. On top of the little touches Paul finds comfort in, he has now made a habit of pushing the line of inappropriate PDA. Mostly at school and Emilys, where we both were scolded any time we got caught. 

“Tempting,” I say as I begin walking backwards towards the cottage, “One or two?”

Nearly knocking me over in the process.

“Watch it, Black,” Paul growled, moving quickly to steady me. His breathing was erratic and I could practically feel his heart racing as he pulled me into his chest. Looking down at me with dark, worried eyes as I looked up in confusion. What had set him off?

“Paul,” I warned, placing my palms on his chest firmly, “It’s okay, Paul. I’m okay.”

He only nodded. Taking a deep breath as he screwed his eyes shut trying to calm himself down. I lazily slid my hands down his chest until they met his hands, intertwining our fingers. I squeezed his hands gently, as a reminder that I’m still right there if he needed me.

Taking two steps back with his hands in mine, extending both of our arms just as he opened his eyes, still hard and full of an emotion that resembled rage. I smiled softly, “Come on Fido, let's go for a walk and then muffins.”

Paul let out a small laugh, walking towards me until our hands were at our sides again, “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“I’ll say anything if I know it’ll make you smile,” I tell him honestly. I let go of one of his hands before reaching up and poking the small dimple in his cheek, causing his smile to widen, “There we go.”

The imprint causing my heart to flutter at the sight of him. I stand on my tip toes, bringing my hand to the back of his neck, prepared to be scolded for the PDA we were about to show. I don’t care, not when he looks this kissable. 

Jake misses the football him and Embry were still playing with, it continues bouncing on the grass and hitting my ankles. I turn to him with a playful glare, returning to flat feet. I look up sheepishly to Paul, who is no longer smiling. A frown etched into his features, it seemed like a permanent feature these days.

“Sorry.” Jake teased, his hand resting on my lower back uncomfortably compared to when Paul slots his hand there. It doesn’t last longer than two seconds before Jacob picks up his ball again and tosses it back to Embry.

“Old habits die hard, isn’t that right, Jake?” Embry laughed.

Turning my head to look at him again, “What’s that supposed to--”

A sharp gasp leaving my lips interrupts my question as I fall to my knees, clutching my side. All I can feel is a burning sensation spreading across my abdomen. Letting out a shaky breath, I look down. My hands holding my side are drenched in blood as it soaks through my sweater. Though most of the fabric is shredded. I stare at it in confusion and shock. What the hell just happened?

“Shit!” Jake kneels next to me, yelling towards the small cottage, “Fuck! Call Sue!”

 I look at him as I start to hyperventilate, knowing the amount of blood I’ve lost is a lot already. I frantically look for Paul, his large frame nowhere to be seen, just a large grey wolf in his spot.

Reaching my hand up to wave him over, I know he can lessen the pain I feel, I just need to touch him. Jake pushed my bloodied hand down, back to my abdomen, “Keep pressure,” He said, worry seeping into his voice.

But I can’t take my eyes off of Paul. He  lets out a series of whimpers before he takes off, running faster than my brain could currently keep up with, “Don’t go,” I try to whisper, but it barely comes out as my vision blurs. The grey wolf breaking through the tree line and disappearing was the last thing I saw before it all went black.

…“Attacked by a wild dog.” A woman's voice says distantly, my ears were ringing as I struggled to stay awake and open my eyes…

….“What are you doing here?!” I hear my father saying angrily before losing consciousness again…

The familiar red hair billowing in the wind, talking to a man I’ve never seen before. I take a step forward, trying to get a better look at both of their faces when a hand on my shoulder stops me.

“Don’t, sweetie.” I look to see the sweet face of my mom, usually so sure of herself, now concerned, “Go find Paul. He’ll keep you safe.”

“What?” I asked, full of confusion.

“Paul and the pack will deal with them, but you need to go. Go find him,”

My eyes widened. She knows about the pack. 

About Paul

“How do you..?”

“Mothers know everything.” She tells me with an all knowing smile.

I frown, feeling as though our time is fleeting, “I miss you.”

“I know , Little Bird.” She tells me, caressing my cheek softly.

I look back towards the two pale faces just as their heads both snap towards my mom and I, it is then that I notice their glowing red eyes.

Gasping awake, I bring my hand up to block out the bright, white light. Groaning at the sharp pain in my side.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” A soft voice coos. I know that voice. Blinking my eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning, Sue Clearwater comes into focus, “How are you feeling?”

“Paul? Is he here?” Looking around the room for the bronze man that I know is beating himself up right.

“Hasn’t left since they brought you in.” She tells me, writing something down on her clipboard before looking up at me with sorry eyes. “Your dad won’t let him see you. Seems like that gang rumour hasn’t just stuck to the highschool like the council thought it would.”

Tears form in my eyes as I try to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Oh, sweetie. Let me see if I can distract your father long enough for Paul to come check on you.” She tells me, setting down her charts before petting my hair. Just like my mom used to do. The damn breaks and all the unshed tears leave my eyes as she makes quick work of leaving to distract my father.

Paul comes in keeping his distance from the hospital bed. He looks sickly, almost like he hasn’t been sleeping or eating. A pang of worry soars through me. It wasn’t his fault. 

“Tell me you want nothing to do with me.” His voice breaks. He can’t even look at me. His eyes wander the room before landing on the window.

 It’s dark outside. But I have no way of telling how long I’ve been in the hospital.

I don’t hide my shock, “What?”

“Please,” he begged, finally looking at me, “Tell me I’m a monster and you hate me, I need to hear you say it because I know you, you wouldn't want to be around someone like me.”

“It was an accident, Paul, you’re not a monster.” I tried to sit up but the pain was too much.

He cringed and looked away from me again.

“I hurt you,” he croaked, “the one thing I vowed to never do.” 

Tears form in my eyes yet again, “If you don’t come to me, I am going to come to you.”

 I was not bluffing and swung a leg off the bed when he refused to move. Groaning as I placed one barefoot on the cool floor.

 He rushed to me, stopping me just as I got my other leg swing off the bed., “Don’t. You’ll rip your stitches.”

“Paul,” I lean into him, seeking his warmth, “I need you.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt by me, or the boys.. We’re not safe.” 

“You promised.” I brood, forcing him to look me in the eyes, “You promised me that I was stuck with you for life, that I was never going to lose you.”

The sorrow was unmistakable in his eyes, “I know, but the only thing I care about is making sure you're safe, and that's not with me.”

I resort to begging,  “Please don’t do this.”

The emotions were overwhelming. On top of the pain in my side, I could feel the dull ache I had felt when he refused to speak to me after I had found out about the imprint. I thought I had rid it for good.

“Saskia,” He cradled my cheek and I squeezed my eyes shut as my chest began to ache more intensely. I can't go through this again, “This is what's best.”

“I don’t care! I don’t need you deciding what's best for me, I can do that myself. We’ve talked about this.”

He opens his mouth to speak but I quickly interrupt, “If you do this to me again, I will never forgive you. Imprint or not, I promise you, I will never speak to you again and I keep my promises.” My anger and sadness mix together to create a dangerous storm of emotions.

He looks away again, his demeanour changing. He's scared. He knows I’m right and that I won’t settle for him tearing us apart over his own fears.

“I don’t want to do this to you,and if you never forgive me, I get it, I won’t forgive myself for what I’ve done to you.” His eyes now dark, and moody, like they had been the first time we made eye contact after the wolf genes had kicked in. I can see his inner turmoil. Like he was fighting with himself.  “But, I don’t want to lose you, I can’t. We just..need some distance right now.”

“Distance.” I repeat. This sounds more like a breakup than anything else. I take a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts. Pauls clearly made up his mind,  and I am just too tired to fight him on it right now. 

He nods, holding my hand that was sitting in my lap and bringing it to his lips, “It won’t be forever. I just need to  get control of this. So, I don’t want you at Sams anymore, after patrols I can’t be around you, not while I’m still wound up and--”

“But what about--” I stop myself, pulling my hand from his and placing it back in my lap, “Nevermind.”

“What about what?” He asks, a flicker of hurt flashing through his eyes as I pull my hand away.

I shake my head.

“Sask?”

“I can’t sleep without you…” I murmur. He knows this. He has to, but he has to work out his own demons. I can at least understand that.

“I’ll figure something out..you’ll be okay.” He tells me, squeezing my hand gently.

I look up at him, one thing worrying me the most now that we’ve settled he won’t be ditching me for a third time, “I don’t even know what happened..Why’d you get so angry?”

“I wasn’t even angry.I was just..” He stopped himself. As he does whenever he talks about his emotions.

“Just what?”

“Jake,” he muttered, “He likes you, or he did, before finding out I imprinted on you. Jared told me that when Jacob found out he didn’t imprint on Bella, that it crossed his mind that maybe it was you. I doubt those feelings just magically disappeared and I don’t know something about him touching you made me snap.”                                                                                                               

I rolled my eyes, plainly stating, “You’re the only one that I want. ” 

Wait.

Why did I say that?

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

His eyes widened, “What?”

“As an imprint.” I lie, completely backtracking, “Obviously we're still just friends who sometimes are more than friends but not feelings wise, y’know?”

He grumbles something beneath his breath that I can’t quite make out. 

The sound of a throat clearing catches both of our attentions, “I thought I told you, you were not allowed to see my daughter.”

“Dad,” Quickly holding onto Paul's arm, as both our heads snap towards the door, “I asked for him.”

He scoffed, “I’m calling security.”

“No, Dad, please. Please.” I beg.

“Your mother would not approve of this, Saskia. Sneaking around at night, skipping school, all for this boy who is nothing but trouble. We raised you better than that. You, out.” My father grabs Paul's arm roughly leading him to the door as Sue watches with sorry eyes as she enters.

Tears cloud my vision as I move to stop him from kicking Paul out, only to have my legs give out and fall to the floor, “Saskia!”

Warm arms wrap around me protectively and I look up at a worried Paul, I can’t stop myself from crying, “Please don’t go. Not yet.”

“Delta, wait outside, please.” I hear my dad argue with my little sister, but I’m scared to look at her. Not knowing what they told her.

I just hope she's not afraid of the pack, not afraid of Paul. I can't put her through that if she is, and picking between the two people I care about most would destroy my already fragile mental state.

Looking at the door frame where Delta stood with Sue, her mousy voice sounds softer than usual as she says, “Paul will take care of her dad.”

“Delta, adults only.” He barked back at her. He never yells at Delta.

“Mom liked Paul, you’re the only one who doesn’t.” Delta says with an abundance of teenage angst in her voice before she stomps her feet out into the hall.

“She’s eighteen, Strand. She wants Paul to stay, he stays.” Sue comments as Paul helps me up as if I weigh nothing to him, setting me back in the uncomfortable hospital bed and pulling the itchy blanket up to my waist. He looks away as Sue checks my stitches. I'm not sure if it's because my fathers in the room or if he's afraid to see the damage but I squeeze his arm gently. Holding on to him for dear life, as if he would disappear when I let him go.

“All good, Saskia. No more sneaking out of bed, okay?” Sue says as she pulls the blanket further up my body.

“I’ll try.” I mumble, though it honestly depends on the boy beside me.

“Oh, and Delta was right, Marjorie had no problem with these two being..friends.” Sue informed my father, patting him on the shoulder before she sent a reassuring smile to myself and Paul, “Now, Del has school tomorrow, you should take her home.”

My dad is reeling as he says,  “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Sue is quick to lead him out of the room as Paul situated himself next to me. My grip on his arm is not lessening and I’m grateful he’s not leaving too. Though I know how much he is beating himself up about the accident. His new distance boundary can start tomorrow.

“My mom knew.” I mused quietly. So much for being sneaky climbing through his window every night. She had never brought it up to me, though I wish I had told her. I could see us on her porch swing, cocooned in blankets with hot chocolate gossiping like teenage girls about the very attractive boy next door. But I will never get that.

“My dad knows.”

I looked up at Paul, shocked at what he had confessed, “What?”

“I don’t know when he found out but, he asked me about you the other day.” He chuckled softly, running his fingers through my hair,  “He said he hadn’t heard your voice in a while but he was glad that you didn’t hold a grudge against me.  I also told him about the imprint. He wasn’t surprised.”

I smile tiredly, “My mom liked you. I always thought she would”

He smiles down, stroking my cheek, “Get some sleep.”

“Paul?” I ask, trying to hold his gaze but my eyelids became too heavy as I carefully snuggled into him. His warmth envelops me like a safety blanket.

“Hm?”

“I want to sleep in your stupid tshirts, okay? Nothing will ever change that.” I mumble through a yawn. 

He slots his hand into mine, giving it a small squeeze, “I’ll remember that.”

[unwillingadventurer]

A fluffy Ian/Barbara fic for Valentine's Day.

Hopping on one foot, Ian Chesterton laughed as he tried to remain steady. Barbara, sitting at her dressing table, applying her make-up whilst looking in the ornate mirror, smiled as from the corner of her eye she saw her husband passing by on one leg, no trousers to be seen and his shirt undone.

“If you’re to make that meeting by nine, Ian, I’d put a sprint on.”

“I’m trying. I suppose I really don’t want to go to this meeting.”

Barbara spun around. “I know. I don’t want to do this lecture this morning either. Not when it was meant to be our day off together. When was the last time we spent the day together, Ian?”

“Chance would be a fine thing. We’re both such busy bees these days.”

“I shouldn’t complain, but oh Ian, we had that romantic day planned.”

Finally placing on his trousers, Ian leaned over and kissed Barbara on the head. “How about tonight after all this work stuff, we just get dressed up and go to a posh old restaurant and treat ourselves to some fine wine? It can’t be a daytime thing but there’s no reason we can’t enjoy a meal together and have a night of it.”

She smiled. “That sounds lovely.”

…

Later that evening when Ian arrived home, Barbara was in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of tea as the whistling kettle came to the boil.

“You want one?” she asked.

Placing down his briefcase and then kissing her cheek, he smiled. “Love one. I’m parched.”

“Oh, Ian, I’ve had such a tiring day.” Barbara could already feel her feet aching in her high heels.

“Sorry to hear that. Wish I could help but I’m exhausted too. Had to stay late in the end.”

“We didn’t book a restaurant,” she said with a sigh.

“No.” He paused and looked at her sympathetically. “Oh, I’m sorry, Barbara, I’m not a very good husband, am I? I should’ve booked us a table earlier.”

“No, Ian, you’ve been busy. Tell you what, why don’t we make something easy for dinner?”

“Something that requires minimal effort would be nice.” He rubbed his chin.

…

They laughed together as they carried two plates of beans on toast into the living room on fancy trays. Ian had placed a rose onto Barbara’s, a flower he’d picked up on the way home.

“You didn’t pinch that from Mr. Bennett’s rose garden, did you?”

Ian’s eyes rolled upwards, ignoring the question for a moment before answering. “Shows what you know. Mr. Bennett asked me to take one!”

“I see.”

“Barbara, I wish I could’ve bought you a nice gift but I just haven’t had the time.”

Barbara pointed her fork at him. “Eat your beans and then we can have some pudding.”

“Ooh, what kind?”

“Anything we happen to have in the cupboard.”

“But Barbara we haven’t been shopping.”

“Oh.”

Pudding afterwards consisted of a small piece of madeira cake they found in the cake tin that may have been there since Barbara had baked it several weeks earlier.

“Bit tough but still, beggars can’t be choosers.” Ian licked his fingers, removing the last crumbs.

“Why don’t you just get the hoover and be done with it?”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get snappy with me, Barbara.”

There was a moment of silence. Ian snuggled up close to his wife to remove the tension. As he nuzzled her, he felt the tension ebb away. He smelt Barbara’s hairspray and coughed.

“Sorry, Ian, went a bit mad on it today.”

“No problem. I like your hair. It’s getting taller though. One day it might start leaning like the leaning tower of Pisa.”

“Oh, Ian!” She slapped him away. “This is hardly romantic.”

“No, you’re right, hairspray and beans on toast. Maybe we should slip into something more…comfortable?”

“Ian, are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“I think you are thinking what I’m thinking.” There was a mischievous look on Ian’s face. “Come on, let’s get ready.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the sofa.

…

Ten minutes later, they sat back on the sofa, dressed in their full nightwear—Ian in his striped pyjamas, dressing gown and matching slippers and Barbara in her long nightdress, dressing gown and warm socks.

“Ah, perfect,” she said as she laid her legs across Ian, wriggling her toes in his face.

Ian sniffed.

“Don’t do that joke again, my feet are very clean, thank you.”

He laughed. “Are you sure, I’m getting a hint of cheese?”

“Oh, do shut-up, Ian, I’m trying to get comfy. I’m tired.”

She closed her eyes as she moved about until she was in a perfect position, cuddled up in Ian’s arms, snuggling close to him, her head under his chin.

“There, that’s better.”

Ian ran his fingers up and down her arm. “This beats a boring old restaurant any day. Beans, Barbara and cuddles on the settee.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Me too.” He closed his eyes. “It’s funny, isn’t it? All this romance lark.”

“Hmm?”

“Just trying to have a romantic evening and then being content just as we are now. We did all the adventuring but I’m quite happy here.”

“As long as we have time together.”

“I really do love you Barbara,” he said, whispering into her ear. But when he looked at her, she was breathing softly and her eyes remained closed. “Barbara?” He ran his hand over his hair. “Night, Barbara.” He kissed her cheek.

[lemmetreatya]

Bertholdt taking the world's longest drag of a cigarette and an equally long exhalation. He's like a depressed dragon.

Look yeah because I genuinely believe if he made it out of the RTS battle we would have seen Bertholdt become a serial chainsmoker!! as in even Zeke would look onto him in horror at the sheer amount of packs he’d go through in a day 😭😭 however even though the stress of being in paradis and having to constantly deal with reiner’s DID is technically over, it’d still be something he does. maybe as a coping mechanism

Most of the balconies in Marley didn’t give much of a grand view.

Apart from the starboard facing ones that gave an oversweep of the teetering harbour, the other higher levels of buildings just gave a dull beige and tan look of the city. There wasn’t much too them and so it’d be understandable if someone didn’t label it as a place they’d like to frequently spend time.

Bertholdt on the other hand enjoyed balconies for different reasons.

The closed off space offered him a solace void. Being able to spend time away from everyone else and alone with himself (alone with his thoughts if he was unlucky) gave him a sense of centring and realignment.

It also gave him a space to chain his cigarettes in peace and without the complaint from other parties.

He liked balconies because they gave him room — something he doesn’t have a lot of in Marley. He even jokes to himself at times that at least over in Paradis, having room from time to time wasn’t a privilege but a right. He guesses even devils could get some things correct.

But alas, Bertholdt wasn’t living that life anymore. For now it was a closed chapter. For now, he was back to being a Marleyan soldier.

A Warrior.

“So these are what all your paychecks go on, huh?”

On impulse, Bertholdt stands tall and straight, his right hand saluting as his cigarette dangled between his lips. Yet, upon seeing it was only Zeke, his body language relaxed. He however couldn’t help his eyes roll in mild annoyance.

“And what about it? You’d rather me squander it on brothels?” He muses.

Leaning his back against the balcony wall, Bertholdt looked a deep drag of his cigarette before forking it out of his mouth and letting the ash ambers fall to the ground by his foot.

Zeke sees the funny side to Bertholdt’s words as he amusingly hums. He doesn’t however forget to light his own cigarette up.

“Not saying that at all.” He says in juvenile spirit. The blonde takes a short inhale of his cigarette before blowing it out as a billow of smoke.

“Although…” He starts. “It would help to maybe loosen up over there every now and then.”

Bertholdt shakes his head at Zeke’s promotion, dropping his now ran-through cigarette in exchange for lighting another one.

“I think I’m alright thanks.” He declines. Zeke only flippantly shrugs as he mumbles a light ‘suit yourself’ in reply.

The two men had a moment of silence as they both smoked at their respective pace.

Bertholdt still prefers to have had this time alone although he guesses Zeke isn’t the worst company to have. It may be a stretch to presume but Bertholdt liked to think that he and the commander got along. Even though he held ranks over him, Zeke was one of the ‘better’ chiefs.

Yet despite his comfortability with Jaeger, Bertholdt was still perceptive enough to take took into account how Zeke didn’t seem as comfortable as he usually would. It may seem fickle but it was weird how he wasn’t leaning over the balcony next to him like he usually would.

Not that it mattered; Bertholdt was fond of the moments people decided not to invade his personal space. However, seeing Zeke stand formally before him made Hoover contemplate that maybe there was an ulterior motive to his superior gracing him with his presence.

As if wanting to prove his speculations right, Zeke dropped his now stub like cigarette to the ground. He squished the habit beneath the toes of his shoes before pocketing his hands and staring just past Bertholdt’s head.

“I don’t think I’m the type to lecture people. I like to leave that sort of stuff for boardroom meetings.”

Zeke’s voice was contemplative.

Bertholdt knew that whatever was coming next was definitely going to be a lecture, or at least an abbreviation of one, and so he braced himself for the talk.

He didn’t reply to Zeke’s vocal inner dialogue, only took another long drag of his cigarette.

“However, if it’s one piece of advice I will give you, is that you need to remember first and foremost that in being a Warrior your body doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to Marley.”

With a clipped laugh masked as a huff, Bertholdt easily dismissed Zeke’s words.

“You don’t need to remind me.” He chides but apparently his commander had else wise to say.

Wagging his finger in Bertholdt’s direction, Jaeger makes an expression that excessively bares his teeth. It was unattractive, but simply for the fact that he was aiming it in the brunette’s face.

“But you see, that’s the thing, Hoover — I think I do need to remind you because this little habit of yours—” He gestures to the cigarette Bertholdt was currently smoking. “Is starting to alarm a few heads at top. There’s talks about you not looking after the state’s property and infringing harm upon it.”

Bertholdt has to hand it to him; for a second, he was almost scared into thinking that Zeke was about to tell him off.

Not that he was scared of the man but had this been said to him back when he first touched the island after all those years, he may have thought differently. But Bertholdt has metaphorically seen the soles of Zeke’s feet. Not that his respect for him was lost, but he was more exposed to the fact that no one ever knew what they were doing. Each and every one of his commanders were fumbling their way through all this, fighting a fight they never saw the beginning of and probably will never see the end.

Corrections like these only ever seemed dogmatic in nature.

“Ha. Of course.”

With a callous edge, Bertholdt chucked down the cigarette from his mouth. He didn’t even bother to out it.

Opting to just stare over the harbour, Bertholdt felt pissed that he even let himself be chastised about the habit. God forbid a devil try and alleviate just some of the national debt that’d been placed so prematurely onto his shoulders.

But he didn’t want to seem defiant.

If anything, he’s surprised Zeke hadn’t mentioned that the higher ups were speculative of his new brazenness since he had returned from the island.

So much of Marley’s facade had unraveled from his eyes in the past year or so but Bertholdt was in too deep to back out now. This was as much his war than it was anyone elses so he guesses the least they can do is forgive him for adopting a sense hubris in himself and allow him to smoke his cancer sticks in peace.

But he guesses even that was too much.

Not bothering to turn his head in Zeke’s direction, Bertholdt offered a reasonable concern.

“Would the long term use of these things even harm us? Won’t our titan abilities regenerate any aliments it causes?”

Bertholdt wasn’t even sure if Zeke was still there. He was so awfully quiet and hadn’t said much after his initial complaint, but the familiar oesophageal clearing confirmed his continued presence.

“I’m sure it would but I wouldn’t know. I haven’t done the science for it.” He pauses. “But despite that, you understand how the habit wouldn’t look benign to them, don’t you? That all it looks like is excessive substance abuse.”

Bertholdt understood.

He wasn’t stupid. Despite how much he may disagree with their concern, he knows where the complaint may have come from. If anything he was more alarmed by Zeke’s fleeting compassion to give him a heads up.

With a softer expression, Bertholdt finally looked back at his commander.

“Never took you to be the caring type.”

“Oh, I’m not.” Zeke’s eyes were shielded as the reflection of the dusking over the sea caused his glasses to gleam white. “I just don’t want them onto me next.”

Of course.

A court yet short laugh left the brunette’s mouth.

Bertholdt should have known that the heads up was merely at the expense of Zeke’s own gain. But he couldn’t be mad. Because really and truly, he knows Zeke could have deterred the higher ups off of him without hinting anything to Bertholdt. Even though he denied caring, he showed it sparingly in his own warped way.

Taking out another cigarette for himself, Zeke fitted it between his lips before lighting it up and taking a puff. He then held the stick between his fingers as he pointed it in Hoover’s direction.

“But I agree, I’d rather you be aware that there’s targets on your backs and have a chance to deter them, than find out in an off-meeting that they’re shortening your Warrior term because of a choice you made out of bad habit.”

Bertholdt eyed the burning stick in front of him before turning back to look over the balcony view.

“Thanks.” He mutters.

There was a bit of shuffling first but then a quietness ensued which was a lot more comfortable than before. However, it’s only after he could no longer smell the burning of ash that Bertholdt realises the only reason why the silence was comfortable was because he was finally alone again.

[daviahrose]

💌💋girls that read>> (book recommendations down below)💋💌

🎀Book recommendations! 🎀

The summer I turned pretty series! (Tsitp) I love reading this especially in the summer by the beach or the pool. It’s a little cute summer romance there is a show about it that recently came it. It’s a young adult read and a description about it is… “Belly measures her life in summers. Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August. Winters are simply a time to count the weeks until the next summer, a place away from the beach house, away from Susannah, and most importantly, away from Jeremiah and Conrad. They are the boys that Belly has known since her very first summer—they have been her brother figures, her crushes, and everything in between. But one summer, one wonderful and terrible summer, the more everything changes, the more it all ends up just the way it should have been all along”

Jenny Han also writes so many other books that are good. Another famous on is To all the boys I’ve loved before (talib) it also became a movie series

The twilight saga personally I’m just now reading it but I like it so far. A little boring but I know it picks up because I may have or may have not watch the movies first. I almost finished the entire movies series so I decided to stop and try to read the books. It’s another young adult read and a description about it is…”A girl named Isabella “Bella” Swan, moves from phoenix, Arizona to Forks, Washington which is under a constant cover of rain. a mystery unravels when she meets Edward Cullen who is he? What are his true intentions? Nobody knows. she falls in love with him until it takes a terrifyingly scary turn”

Books I haven’t read yet that I recommend!

A good girls guide to murder series “a girl named pip investigates a murder mystery (can’t use too much detail might get taken down) pip knew the guy who supposedly did it but can’t shake the feeling that there has to be something more to the story. Will she clear his name?”

Colleen Hoover books these are pretty tik tok famous however because of the accusations I’m not sure if you want to read them (I’m not sure if they are true or not) support her if you want or don’t. Other than that some people say that it’s more for people who are just getting into reading and some people don’t like her writing style so her books are hit or miss. I personally flipped through it and didn’t buy it because it looked a little boring but I might buy it and see.

Colleen’s most famous books if you are interested

It end with us

Ugly love

Reminders of him

Verity

Regretting you

This is just from what I heard. I don’t really read Colleen Hoover books so I wouldn’t know but for the most part I see these all over my fyp

Last but not least I just want to say that reading isn’t boring and it’s actually fun when your not obligated to read them for class. You can make reading fun by getting books you like and reading on your on time and at your own pace. How do I find out what books I like? Well I’m not sponsored or anything but I truly feel like Likewise is a good app for recommendations on books, movies and tv shows, and podcasts. I used this to find out descriptions and reviews on books I’m interested in before I buy them. Also I don’t rush myself to finish books. It may take a year or a few months but I just renew them unless I get bored of them. Getting into reading takes time and getting out of reading slumps does too. All of last year I was reading until this year I stopped because I was too tired and I didn’t come back to it until this week. Being able to do fancy annotations and book tabs take time and somewhat skill so find what works for you. I wish I could get into annotating myself but it’s so confusing so I’m just looking at tik tok tutorials of people explaining. This is all my advice so far on reading and book recommendations I hope you guys liked it considering the fact that I woke up at 2:15am to write this and it’s now 3:30am on a school night 😭 let me know if this works. Xoxo, Daviahrose

[keefwho]

January 10 - 2024 Wednesday

11:25pm

4.5/10

This morning I didn't clean much, I did a little tidying but everything was pretty clean already. For breakfast I made a really good corned beef hash sandwich with bell peppers, onions, and mozzarella cheese. I was extremely against drawing today and was a day ahead of schedule so I made the decision to adjust my schedule today to focus on whats necessary. On stream I played an hour and a half of Kerbal which was fun despite the stupid bugs and dropped frames I had to deal with. Daisy seemed to feel bad about not being able to think of what to draw, I know she wants to be creative but struggles with it like I do. After Kerbal I worked on the next commission for an hour while we watched our shows. I was slow at drawing today and I'm not sure I like how I'm doing on the comm so far. After stream I did my workout and watched Henry make soup. He had almost all the same ingredients I use and he always finds legitimate recipes to go off of so I knew I was onto something. I took a quick shower and tried making Hoover stew for lunch again. It came out about the same as last time, pretty not good but I ate it anyways. I think I know what to do next time I wanna try, I want to get this recipe to be good. After lunch, which took a long time to cook, I did today's request which was a weird little chibi character outside of my usual expertise. I had meant to draw a little more but again I made the decision not to because I didn't want to and it served little purpose. Instead I did my yoga today with my new yoga mat. Then I worked on my secret project for about 45 minutes. My new headphones came in and I used them while working. I'm going to try to make them my focus headphones to preserve their high quality by not getting used to hearing it all the time. Daisy invited me to Just Dance so I could join in and get XP on 2024 edition songs. I learned how important hand twisting/tilting is on some songs rather than just velocity. But sometimes hand motions are hard to see, especially when it's going quickly. After dancing, my 7pm cutoff time meant no more creative stuff. I started up KSP briefly before Daisy joined the server VC and did a Monster High Frankie unboxing she got today which was very fun. In bed we watched a great episode of Bojack and then I started Kingdom Hearts for her which had JUST finished downloading. She was up pretty late, maybe partly because of me. I'm up late too because I didn't want my nightly routine to interrupt our time.

Today was a little rough. I had to deal with the self guilt of feeling lazy despite trying to work on a couple things. My tummy also hurt maybe because of both breakfast and lunch. My gums still hurt a lot and aren't getting to heal because I gotta chew my food. I was trying to mush my chicken and fries with my fork before eating it first just to do less chewing but it was too crunchy.

[vowtoimprove]

There is a sentence that has got stuck with me recently: "Why ship water, when you have it on tap?" This great sentence is from a promising small Company called #Smol They sell laundry capsules by post, thus saving the big trucks, the big bottles, the size of packaging Very fair point. So what is the 'multi purpose cleaner' about? Is it just water with some soap? Perhaps some bleach? Did companies really just add water, produced billions of bottles, spent tones of petrol and produced CO2 only to sell you something that could be really packaged in a small tablet? Perhaps you can even do the mix yourself? For a few months I realised the biggest disease in humans is money In order to make money, it has empowered humans to do despicable products Mum said there was a very good hoover company, so good, that their product never broke, and thus they went out of business The first doubtful product I heard of, a home printer. Someone said it had a small engine that counted how many prints it did, and after a determined number, it would stop printing, even though it could print further Companies want you to subscribe, to keep on buying their products The worst of their hunger for money is seen in @Apple products Apple thinks it's totally reasonable to charge £1k for a phone, more than a TV, a fridge, a washing machine & a computer together What do the other capitalists see? If Apple & Samsung convinced people to fork out £1000, surely people can fork out even more for electricity and gas, petrol, Council Tax, mortgages or rent, & cinemas. Everyone wants a piece of our wages It is down to Apple's greediness, they have set a really bad example, they have opened Pandora's box Every company wants to aim at getting £1000 out of you a year Appliances from decades ago last a lot longer. I have a 40 year old microwave, apparently it comes from #SoutKorea from #Solavox Will any of the new microwaves last this long? With all this over complicated technology that runs into trouble? Apple needs to set a precedent, they have earned a lot of money already, it's time to rectify and produce more sustainable products, to stop damaging the natural resources any further https://www.instagram.com/p/CjSY4G3qNJK/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[covdiggingdeep]

Amanda Peberdy, Sherbourne Valley Allotments, Coventry. Plot taken on May 2021. "I’ve got beetroots and chard, turnips and lettuce, and that’s chicory. I’ve got kohlrabi as well and a couple of cabbages that I salvaged from the pigeons. We bought some really bad compost this year - it was advertised as organic ‘super-grow’ and it seems to have killed everything. Even in the greenhouse, in pots, you would water them the night before really well and by the next morning it was like a hard crust on the top. I’ve never known anything like it and if you find some in the beds, it’s like lumps of lava rock. You have to chuck it. I get loads of stuff from the market man, he’s brilliant, he was saying that if things are dying, use a type of seed compost - everything has thrived in that. I’ve been busy so I haven’t been here half as much as last year. I’ve been running a lot of yoga workshops, two a month, and working six days a week with my classes and one-to-ones. But we did take on a second plot. There’s blue potatoes, a lot of them we’ve dug up but we still need to dig up the second earlies. We’ve got loads of round courgette plants, they get really big and we have to pick them as soon as possible but they taste really sweet for courgettes. This is tree spinach, asparagus, peas - they didn’t do great - we got about three forkfuls! Butternut squash, runner beans. Some I sow into the soil and some I start off in pots. We’ve had loads of snap peas and rainbow carrots which have done really well. I like flowers as well, we live in a flat with a roof garden but really it’s all concrete so it’s nice to have flowers. We have pattypans that are getting quite big now. I’ve over-planted courgette plants. Here are strawberry plants, they are the best strawberries I’ve ever ever had. Sweetcorn, kale, more courgette. I’ve bought a few plants from the Mind plot nearby. We’ve had a massive pigeon problem this year, like mafia, decimating everything. One of my neighbours who has been here for 30 years says they’ve never known a pigeon problem like it. The foxes poo everywhere, too, even on the bench. I’ve also grown broad beans, a herb patch, turnips, broccoli, purple sprouting, onion squash which I’ve never grown before and baby pumpkins. The crop I use the most is probably the rainbow chard and we eat loads of greens. We love the spring cabbage. I’ve grown a lot of new stuff this season. I wasn’t sure what to do with the kohlrabi but it’s like a turnip. Melons! We’ve grown a watermelon in the green-house which I’m really happy about and we’ve eaten two melons from in there, and cucumbers. I panicked at first when I got the plot - I didn’t want to take this plot on, it was wild, I didn’t know how we were going to do it but slowly over time we strimmed it down and my partner started building beds and we started buying palette collars and then it kind of… emerged. It’s the same that side, we don’t have a massive vision for it yet but we’re creeping into it bit by bit. We’re hoping to have a pond and more beds and flowers on this side. Everybody always said to me: take your time but we didn’t want to, we went berserk. I’m glad we did that but this year we’re falling into that advice more. When I’m down here I’m just enjoying it. It’s so peaceful. There’s so much to do but in another way there’s not a lot to do: you can’t be cooking, you can’t be hoovering, the phone’s not ringing. We see the plots as a really long-term project. Next door is going to be the fruit plot. We’ve inherited another big cabin, we want to make it all glass so we can see all of the plot. My partner has lots of plans for it. We want to keep this plot as more of a chilled out space, we want to keep the grass and walk in and feel like it’s a green space, as opposed to next door which is all square beds and cultivated. We’d like to have people down and have a shared space for mindfulness. It feels like a soft space here, there’s hardly any ego on the allotments. There are no billboards telling you who you’re meant to be. It has its own mini-culture. The only time we turned a few eyes is when we brought our kitten down on a lead!"