#I just needed an hour to reset my brain but that was too long he wont come now

[sfucked]

Theres this really shitty cycle and it goes:

get upset over being lonely -> worry that not asking for help is selfish -> be upset bc my uncommunicated needs are unmet -> worry that im manipulative for failing to communicate -> somehow know im overreacting -> feel worse about failing to communicate -> get upset over being upset that I cant communicate -> feel guilty for being upset at something I caused -> feel lonely again -> get upset over being lonely

I don't know what to do about it Im just really stuck and tired. I never find the door by myself.

[enkvyu]

ask game — prompt from this request

“you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

there’s an extra thump in gojo’s heartbeat.

his hands are sweaty even though he’s swiped his palms along his jeans a million times. he feels light headed, perhaps due to the sun peeking through the train window, and his thoughts are playing bumper cars inside his skull.

his mouth is dry, his body is begging him to relax his stiff posture, and he’s nervous. too much blood is rushing to his brain and not enough air is entering his lungs. he thinks he might need some water, but he's worried that if he tries drinking it'll just dribble down his chin.

you sleep peacefully through his panic.

the gentle rumble of wheels along rails lulls you into a shallow sleep, not the kind that has you wishing for a deeper slumber, but just enough rest for your heart to slow and your breathing to deepen.

your pillow is soft. it’s sturdy against your cheek and smells really, really nice, like fresh laundry hung out under the summer sun. it’s also warm, which is an obvious bonus. you snuggle into the heat, exhaling softly when you’re comfortable.

a sudden incline of the train track makes the carriage jolt, and your eyes widen at the shift in gravity.

“what’s happening?” your words slur together as you lift your head from your pillow to survey your surroundings.

you find gojo sitting beside you, oddly rigid and close by.

“why is your shoulder next to my head?”

gojo clears his throat, his eyes darting to you then away. “no reason.”

accepting his answer, you yawn and stretch your arms above your head. your hands collide with the compartment above and you’re once again reminded of where you were.

“when’s the train arriving?” you ask.

gojo flips his phone around to check the time. “you were asleep for forty minutes, so we still have an hour to go.”

“an hour? that long?”

“that’s why i said you should have let me warp us there instead.”

“i’d rather die.” you immediately decline. “last time i let you teleport us to the mission site, we ended up in california.”

“california is a great place!”

“our mission was in finland.”

gojo huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. the gesture blocks you off and you know he is sulking.

it's clear your words have wedged its way deep into gojo's heart, leaving a wound that'll only grow and become infected if you don't soothe him with flattery. “maybe next time, okay? sometime after you’ve mastered your technique which, i'm sure won't take long since you've always been so competent.”

he remains quiet, but you can almost see his ears perk towards you.

"the most competent out of the lot of us!"

he shifts closer, though his arms are still crossed at his front.

"throughout heaven and earth, you alone are the competent one?"

he finally turns over to you, loosening his posture. there's still doubt in his eyes but it is as expected; dealing with a sulky gojo was never going to be easy. “if you don’t trust me, you can just say that.” he pouts.

“okay, i don’t trust you.”

he tilts his body further away from you.

you're quick to reach over and hook your hand under his arm, pulling it towards you in hopes that he'll face you once again. you made a mistake, a slight slip of the tongue and now your progress had been reset. "my bad! but seriously, aren't you tired of playing the victim all the time?"

"excuse me?"

"i mean." you bite your lip, sealing away any more harsh remarks that might leave your mouth unintentionally. "you... are crazy cool! you're the best, gojo. i deeply apologise for my words earlier."

his mouth hangs open. "i think the one who's crazy is you. how do you always find something to complain about?"

"you're telling that to me? as if you weren't treating this entire train ride like your own personal therapy session. i did not need to know how much you struggled on the toilet this morning."

"it's a sign of being unhealthy! that's a very big concern!"

"one that you can bring up with shoko, not me." you easily deflect. "i could not care less about your health even if i tried."

"you are so mean."

you shrug. "i think you're just being a pissy boy."

"you kiss your mother with that mouth?" he asks. "and she lets you? even though her child is a mean, spiteful, terrible person?"

he doesn't appreciate how his eyes flicker down to your lips at the mention, suddenly growing conscious of how he had begun to lean in during the heated conversation. you look none the different, face carved into your usual expression of disinterest.

it irks him.

wasn't it unfair how unfazed you seemed whilst he was running a marathon in his head? wasn't it simply annoying how much you looked like you were falling asleep again, even though his thoughts were held captive by the sight of you?

"where did you think my attitude comes from in the first place?" there's a lazy grin on your face that only makes gojo heat up even more—because it made him mad, not because it looked good on you, he tells himself.

"if you kissed me i wouldn't like it." he says, then immediately slaps a hand over his mouth.

you give him the strangest look you can muster. "sorry?"

"i mean, because, i'm saying i wouldn't like it because you are such a mean person. that's all i'm saying, there's nothing else i'm trying to tell you. you're a horrible person. that's what i meant." gojo splutters. "not because i want you to kiss me. that would be such a strange thing to say. which is why i wasn't saying that."

there's a silence that fills the carriage, broken only from the hum of the train. gojo thinks he can hear his brain explode in the absence of sound before you finally burst out into laughter.

"oh my god, gojo! i never thought you would be the type of person that gets flustered over something like talking about kissing." you say around your giggles, smothering them with your palm as you watch gojo grow red. "especially since you brought it up."

gojo hisses, turning away to rest his chin on his hand, elbow on the aisle armrest. he pointedly ignores your attempts to get him to face you. "me neither." he mumbles into his hand.

"it's kind of cute."

"shut up."

"you're getting redder!"

"ignore it."

you only quiet down when a few minutes passes, making snide remarks at his oddly still state before sighing in satisfaction. you check the time on your phone and note that there was still a long way to go before you arrived. placing it on silent, you tap gojo on the shoulder. "wake me up before the train gets to our stop, okay?"

he makes a noise that you take as agreement, considering that he won't bear to look at you, before adjusting yourself and closing your eyes.

the train ride is silent save for your silent snores and the internal monologue of gojo's breakdown. his body grows stiff when he feels a pressure on his shoulder.

looking over, he finds you using him as a pillow again.

the embarrassment of his earlier words and his slight realisation that you made him feel weird, made him feel warm and nervous all over, makes this action deadly. with his heart racing, he sighs and shifts around so that you were more comfortable. the gesture is appreciated, and you sigh softly in your sleep.

the sight of you is pure torture and gojo finds himself unable to chase sleep as easily as you do. he stays awake until the train halts at the station, ignoring your question on why he looked so tired.

i'll write the other requests tmrw !! i'm sorry that this doesn't rlly have much to do with the prompt but i think i'm starting to lose my mind

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey, steph! how are you, like, genuinely? not the small talk. i wanna listen

Hey Lovely 💜🖤

I want to apologize for putting this off for so long... which should be a clue as to how I am actually doing.

Honestly? Not good, but I'm trying my best. It's been... a time. Will put under a cut for those who don't want to read about the tagged items.

TL;DR – my real life is a bit chaotic, and I hide a lot from y'all because I REALLY try not to be negative here since my blog is where I come to be happy AND because I am a very private person, but I try my best to just keep going day to day as the chaos settles down slowly.

I've got some good things coming though, so I hope a week's rest next week when I'm off (and will probably take a break from here too) will reset my brain.

Work has been insane, and is most of the cause of my mental distress for the past few months. From Easter until Canada Day Weekend at my job is lovingly referred to as "Silly Season" simply because of how on-the-fly, balls-to-the-wall our workload is until summertime downtime officially begins for us. Without disclosing too much, it's basically non-stop, long hours for me until one of the 3 break weeks we get during the this long stretch happens where, incidentally because of the nature of my job and the team I work on, it actually gets BUSIER for us.

It actually ended earlier than we expected this year (yesterday) and we'll be "quieter" until the end of September now. See an opportunity, I actually took next week off between the two long weekends because my mental health has taken a severe hit and I'm having trouble just... enjoying things? I'm haven't gamed or drew in a few weeks, and blogging and writing feels like a chore. I literally just come home, file this blog, reply to one or two asks, and then go to bed, and do it all over again the next day. Day in and day out, for 3 months. On weekends I have to force myself out of my apartment because I KNOW I will sink lower if I don't leave.

On top of that, my brain has convinced me that literally everyone hates me: friends, coworkers, family, you guys, my damned plants. I just feel very alone these days and... I'll be real here, I've almost abandoned this blog a few times in the past few months. I feel like I make fic lists that no one reblogs or likes and tell me they're all shit. I post my art and I barely break 20 notes. I write something and I get maybe 2 likes. I can't really answer any thoughtful asks because my mental state's been in the shitter for months. I desperately want to reply to the few sexuality asks I have and I physically can't. Being on my computer – after working ON a computer for my day job for 12 hour days everyday – feels like too much, so I try to limit my time on the blog now too.

I just try to keep carrying on, encouraged by the once-in-a-blue-moon testimonial ask I get thanking me for still being here. I thank YOU guys for reminding me that people still like coming here.

Stressed about money and food and rent just like everyone else, and just getting frustrated at other things.

And finally, my uncle (my dad's brother and my godfather) hasn't been doing well health-wise, and he's being moved to assisted living next week. His health has been declining since Easter, so it's been a bit of worrying time for relatives.

Having my therapist helps a lot. She talks me through a lot of my complicated feelings, my sense of self and ways to cope with my anxiety and stress. I'm talking to her again next week, so no worries, gang. As I said, I just keep on keeping on.

Some positivity though:

I booked next week off to try to just... recenter myself. To forget about everything and TRY to get back to doing the things I love. I will probably take a break from this blog as well during that time to limit my social-media time. It's not ideal but I need a break from my computer, I think.

I go to the gym a lot more these days, which has helped with the seething annoyance I constantly have at work. Usually feel better after it.

And because of the gym and getting out more, I've been slowly feeling better physically, better than I have since before 2019. The break from work is for the mental health, LOL.

I'm getting my hair recoloured next week. Can't afford it, really, but I just REALLY need to feel better about myself again, and I always feel so different when I colour my hair. I was doing so good for awhile. I want that again.

Anyway, I'm sorry to bombard y'all with my complicated mess of a brain. I really do appreciate you asking, so THANK YOU. I rarely get asked in real life if I am okay because I keep very private due to past people betraying my trust. And I don't like seeing people unhappy, so I feel if I tell people about my problems, then I feel I am a burden, so I just... continue existing.

Thank you for letting me be a burden just this once.

[dokidokitsuna]

Beast Jacket | Glass Diamond

I drew this to celebrate that I FINALLY FINISHED THE FIRST DRAFT of the NeverFell Projects’ first installment. The script is 20 pages long, and I haven’t even added the design breaks yet…is this shaping up to be my first hour-long video…??

In any case, it’s still just a first draft, and it will definitely need some more work before I even start recording it. After I have a nice long break to reset the ol’ brain, of course. ^^

So these designs are successors to these two from before: Adam basically just went shopping for a more protective coat (which he wears on top of his previous outfit) and new shoes. Cinder, on the other hand, jumped into a totally new look as usual. ^^ I love that she’s the Barbie of the RWBY universe, and I’m more than happy to feed the stereotype by giving her lots of different designs~. 

This is my answer to her V7 outfit, where she loses the reds in her design as the ‘flame goes out’. Unlike the V7 outfit, however, this design's symbolism is intentional, as Cinder puts this on when she’s at her lowest point. I like to imagine she was meditating over the direction of her life while she crafted all that glass armor…

Anyway, speaking of direction-- just so I don’t forget (and as a small preview of what I’m working on~) here’s some things I hope to improve with my next draft of this proto-story:

1] Emphasizing reciprocity As in, Adam helps Cinder develop AND Cinder helps Adam develop; it’s supposed to be a two way street. Unfortunately, I think the tail end of the story kinda paints Adam as the ‘savior’ in this relationship…and his lingering superiority complex does not help. ^^;

It may be because he goes through a whole arc over the course of the story, while Cinder just starts hers in the last act, but I think if I just add a bit more introspection on Adam’s part, I can probably fix this. I mean, despite having a more stable sense of self that he can rely on, Adam is clearly the weaker half of this partnership-- he gets beaten up twice in a row while Cinder just keeps coming back stronger despite her suffering. Add to that the fact that Cinder can read him like a book and does so constantly, and there’s no reason Adam has to come off as her superior if I’m actually doing my job as a writer. ^^;;

2] Cinder’s turning point I’m afraid that she might have fallen into the classic writing pitfall of “having a bunch of bad things happen to her and then suddenly changing her mind”...y’know, without a clear line of reasoning that takes her from “this is painful but necessary” to “this isn’t okay anymore”. It’s the difference between a character simply running away from something scary (like any animal can do…) vs. actually developing as a person.

There is a final conversation at the end of the story that I was supposed to use to make this clear, but I think I got too caught up in making it ‘realistic’ and establishing Adam and Cinder’s future dynamic. Which was admittedly very fun, but at the same time there’s probably a reason why it feels like a lightweight conclusion to a heavyweight story, and I’ll have to correct that eventually. :T

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Including Sunlight

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 4

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing, fluff, Frank having unhealthy coping mechanisms

a/n: I'm so sorry that this update is late, everyone! I've had a wacky month and it has completely thrown me off. Huge shout out to @xxdrixx for reminding me (again XD) to post what I'd written, and to my loves @madschiavelique and @gracethyomen for helping me plot the upcoming angst arc!!!

w/c: 5.9k

You hadn’t known Frank for very long, but that didn’t stop him from becoming a necessary fixture in your life. Needing Frank was similar to needing light, or fresh air. Sure, you could go without it for a bit, but it would drastically reduce the quality of your life. 

Two days into his “business trip” (which you assumed was a cover for some illegal shenanigans because what sort of freelance construction worker has business trips), you were missing Frank something awful, and it seemed like Max was too. Though you’d tried your best to stick to the existing routine Frank had explained to you, the dog would get mopey in the evenings, laying his head on your lap with a dramatic sigh as he stared longingly towards the door. 

Frank hadn’t so much as sent an emoji since his departure, a fact that highlighted his already glaring absence. You had no idea if he was even alive, but you refused to go down that path knowing you’d never make it out of that endless anxiety spiral. Hoping not to bother him while he was away, you’d refrained from reaching out. Until Max’s heavy sighs were too much for you to bear. 

“I’ll see what I can do, buddy.” You promised, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of his pouting face. 

Sending Max’s sulking portrait off to your stoic neighbor, you included a message. 

You: I think he misses you. Hope you made it safely. ❤️

You were about to set your phone down, not expecting him to respond, but your phone buzzed immediately. 

Frank: Sorry, bud. He behaving for you?

You: He’s being a perfect gentleman. Please come back to us in one piece. 

Frank: Cross my heart. 

Smiling at the fluttery sensation in your chest, you set your phone down and resumed petting the pitbull taking up residence on your lap. 

Come back to us. A poor imitation of your melodic voice played throughout his brain on a loop as he got settled in the motel and began recon. It had been hours since you’d texted him and Frank couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not that he could ever stop thinking of you; the only thing that had kept him going through the bland, cross-state drive was the knowledge that he had you to return to.

And didn’t that terrify him. The knowledge that he had forged a connection valuable enough to anchor him on bad days should have triggered his factory reset. Cut all ties, change home and job, never look back. But you made him weak–sapping the resolve out of him with your doe eyes and intoxicating personality. He’d never be able to leave you like that, even if his proximity to you would get you killed.

Gritting his teeth, he began disassembling his rifle for the umpteenth time, hoping the familiar rhythm would provide an opportunity for his mind to claw its way out of the paranoid spiral it was currently parachuting down. Because it would do him no good to imagine the ways this could all fall apart. The high that your genuine care ignited in him was a hard one to shake, and he craved your affection more than any drug. 

Frank was no stranger to being forgotten, hell, most days he wished for it. Disappearing into the shadows made his work easier and it had helped him prevent situations like this, like you, in the past. Yet here he was, three states away, feeling desired and significant because of four little sentences of fucking text. You were a goddamn miracle. 

Placing the final piece of his weapon back into its place, he drew his hands towards himself, examining them. Given the nature of his work, both legal and less than, the skin was rough and littered with impressive callouses. Streaks of gun oil, dirt, and general grime lingered on the pads of his fingers and under his nails, a testament to the indelicacy of his job. How could he allow himself to touch you with these hands?

How could the universe allow him to indulge in something so pure, after what he’d done? 

He’d given you his name, his real one, but there was no way you knew the extent of his crimes against the people in your city–if you did, you’d surely never speak to him again. Before meeting you, he’d never questioned his choices. Wiping the murderous, sex-trafficking and drug-dealing scum from the face of the Earth was his purpose, and he lived it with pride. Pulling the trigger, releasing bullet after bullet into the chest of some criminal douchebag, it was the only reason he had the energy to keep going after the loss of his family. 

But the violence, that he’d made peace with, it separated him from the rest of society, kept him from forming attachments with people as delicate as you. Not to mention, you valued an honesty he couldn’t provide, and a stable relationship would require it…not that he was intending on pursuing that with you. Right?

Sighing wearily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, heart pummeling his ribcage. You deserved to know the truth about who he was and what he’d done, but Frank wasn’t sure he possessed the courage to break that news to you, to risk losing you forever. 

Shifting uneasily on the fraying wicker chair, Frank studied a chip in the faux wood of the table he was seated at. Rubbing a thumb over the exposed plastic, he pondered his next move. His short recon session had verified Madani’s hunch that the arms dealers operated after dark, like most criminals, but sitting around the dingy motel room until then was a one-way ticket to insanity. 

As if his body was pitying his moment of unprecedented indecision, his stomach growled ferociously. Fuck, he could use a decent meal and a hot cup of coffee. Plucking his keys and handgun from the nightstand, he shoved his arms into a black canvas jacket before braving the outside world. 

Digging your glove-covered fingers into the laminated dough, you folded it over itself a few times before placing it back in its designated proofing bin to rise. Taking another lump of the yeasted mixture into your grasp, you savored the pleasant cushiony feeling beneath your hands as you worked, the slightly fermented smell of raw bread swirling around the kitchen as you flipped the mass. 

Your heart thumped serenely as you kneaded the dough at a steady pace, creating a beautiful rhythm you were more than familiar with. It was music, of a sort; the pulse in your ears acting as the bass while the cacophony of rattling spice jars and cracking eggshells composed unique melodies unlike anything else. 

Life was complicated, but food was simple. Customizing pastries and generating new recipes was an outlet for any emotion you could dream of. Tugging at the strands of dough helped soothe the tension in your shoulders, a symptom of the intense restlessness you’d been feeling since Frank left. Though his text had confirmed that he was alive, you couldn’t help but wallow in a feeling of gut-wrenching regret as you lived without him. If something happened to him out there, you’d never be able to tell him–

Shaking your head fiercely to clear the anxious thoughts from your mind, you raced to the walk-in, once again pouring your jittery energy into a recipe rather than letting your composure erode into nothing. Stabilizing the precarious tower of ingredients you’d stacked with your chin, you tread cautiously over to a clean station, unceremoniously dumping the contents onto the steel bench before popping your head out to the front. 

“Stace, you want somethin’ to eat?” You called to the girl, who was currently standing by the register on her phone. 

“What are you making?” She barely lifted her head with the question and her ambivalence made you snort. 

“Oh, you know, same old.”

With a small shrug, Stacy nodded. “Sure, why not.” 

Grinning, you ducked back into the kitchen and popped the lid off of the industrial blender, quickly whipping up two vibrantly colored and impeccably garnished bowls for the pair of you. Passing a spoon to Stacy, you smiled as she dug in eagerly.

“What, you didn’t eat breakfast this morning?” You giggled, reveling in the way her eyes lit up as she ate. 

“Had a feeling you’d be cooking up a storm today.” Stacy replied, tilting her head at you knowingly. “You tend to do that when you’re mopey, and I’m never opposed to a free meal.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed in defiance. “I’m not ‘mopey’.” 

“No?” Your dark-haired friend smirked. “That’s why you’re staring at that stupid bowl like it killed your family?” 

Ignoring her pointed look, you angled the bowl slightly differently before pulling out your phone. 

“It’s a pretty meal. I wanted to take a picture.” You reasoned, snapping a few photos of the deep violet mixture. 

“To send to lover boy?” Stacy snorted, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“No! I mean, maybe, I guess. I mean—“ You spluttered and Stacy laughed boisterously. “Shut up!!” Pouting, you shoved your phone back into the pocket of your apron and stuck a spoon into your breakfast. 

“C’mon, princess, don’t let my teasing interrupt your pitiful flirting attempts. I’m sure he wants to hear from you.” Stacy’s expression was nonchalant, as always, but her gaze softened when your shoulders slumped. “I’m serious. He’s like, embarrassingly into you.” 

“I think you might be confused about which of us is ‘embarrassingly into’ the other.” You whined, burying your face in your hands. 

“Oh you’re pathetically head over heels for him too, that’s why you have no game.” 

Scoffing, you shoved at her shoulder. “You know what, I don’t need to be insulted like this. Get out of my kitchen.”

“It’s not insulting, it’s true!” She chuckled, eating the remaining few bites of her food as you struggled to force her out the double doors. 

“Out, out, out!” You panted, finally getting her across the threshold. 

The whoosh of air from the batwing doors blew stray hairs from your face, giving you pause. Did it matter why you reached out to him? He seemed to appreciate it…

“Fuck it.” 

Frank turned the cheap off-white mug in his hands, letting the quickly fading warmth seep through the material and into his palms as he looked out the streaky window. A gray hue had settled over the rural town he was camped out in, courtesy of the building storm on the horizon. The clouds mimicked his mental state, growing darker by the minute as the world remained stagnant. 

A low buzz caught his attention, his hand shooting out to stop his phone from vibrating off of the table. Flicking the screen open, his heart swelled with affection, like a ray of sunshine peeking through the barrier in the sky. 

You: *image* It’s official, I’m becoming a hipster. I was more concerned about this photo than eating my breakfast.

Not attempting to hide his smile, Frank shoved his empty cup aside to free his thumbs. 

Frank: Well, it looks so good, I might have to forgive you. What is it?

You: A smoothie bowl, very easy to make and quite tasty.

Frank: Never had one of those before. Looks good though, sunshine.

You: Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll make you one sometime.

Frank inhaled deeply, imagining that you were nearby and he could smell your soft vanilla soap. The thought of you cooking for him upon his return warmed his heart while simultaneously cracking it in two. He missed you dearly. Drawing his forearms into his chest, he took a picture of his own food, frowning at the grainy quality of the picture as it sent.

Frank: It ain’t as pretty as yours, but I’m eating breakfast myself.

The remnants of a stack of bland pancakes and some tough bacon paled in comparison to the gorgeous, speckled smoothie thing you’d sent him. Why it was in a bowl and not a cup, he wasn’t sure, but clearly you knew what you were doing so who was he to judge? A few seconds passed and Frank briefly wondered if he’d said something wrong. Before he could preemptively apologize, another bubble appeared on the screen.

You: Glad you are able to feed yourself without my help. I was starting to wonder…

Frank: Oh shut up, you goof. I do miss your cooking though.

You: Just my cooking?

His fingers hovered over the glass display, his brain scrambling for a response that didn’t reveal just how gone he was for you. In the end, he couldn’t find one.

Frank: Not just your cooking, honey. I have some work to do, but take care of yourself and Max for me, will you? 

You: Of course, Frankie. Have a good day :)

Frank: You too, sunshine.

Clicking the power button on his phone, Frank flipped it over, settling his head against his rough hands and massaging his forehead. Coward.

The shrill ringing of his alarm shattered the remnants of his uneasy slumber. Whipping his arm out from under the sheets, he stopped the piercing noise with a frustrated growl. Sitting up was a process, thanks to the new bullet wounds in his shoulder and hip—a true testament to how sideways yesterday night had gone. Madani’s brief had implied that this would be a cut and dry operation. Get in, confirm the sale, contact her team, leave. He’d been given strict orders to not shoot unless absolutely necessary. 

Which was a great plan, in theory. Frank was more than on board with it, even if the whole “no shooting” thing lengthened the process. If it kept him on Madani’s good side, and still managed to get him home before Lisa’s birthday, he could live with it. 

Apparently, the rookie member of Madani’s team was not so thrilled with Frank “stealing” so much of the glory. After Frank’s recon session and subsequent confirmation of the sale, the former Marine was about to call for backup when a scrawny 20-something kid darted into the dark warehouse after the arms dealers, holding nothing but a goddamn glock. Anticipating bloodshed, Frank was grumbling and sprinting after him before the gunshots started. 

Pulling the kid out by the straps of his ill-fitting bullet-proof vest was a task Frank managed by the skin of his teeth, procuring two moderate injuries in the process. Of course, the knowledge that the FBI was on their tail sent the arms dealers into a frenzy. Frank was sure they’d crossed state lines before Madani was even done screaming. Honestly, he half expected the poor woman to have steam coming out of her ears–she’d cussed at the kid with words even Frank considered impolite. 

Not that he could blame her, he was fuming all the same, especially when Madani had explained that he wasn’t off the hook for the mission and should head back to the motel to await further instructions. As if he was reliving it, the conversation that followed played in his head on a loop, their screaming match echoing off the walls of his brain. 

“For fuck’s SAKE, Madani, I did what you wanted–why should I be punished for the stupidity of this asshole?”

“Oh, he’ll be dealt with, believe me. But the agreement was to get Roshev and Miller into my custody. Not give my team a half-assed warning and head back to New York scot free.”

“Half-assed–you’re fucking joking. I had to ditch the objective to rescue YOUR DAMN AGENT.”

“Go back to your room, Frank. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re not–”

“That’s an ORDER, Castle.”

So here he was: waking up on a shitty mattress, his skin and hair still streaked with dirt and blood (because the crappy water pressure and freezing temperature had infuriated him to the point that he’d cut his shower short after cleaning his wounds), in pain and in desperate need of a better cup of coffee than anyone around here was capable of brewing. 

On top of that, it was his dead daughter’s 18th birthday–a fact that hung over him like a cloud of poisonous gas, slowly squeezing the air from his lungs, and he was powerless to stop it. He wanted to scream, to cry, to grieve for her, to do something, anything–but instead he was fucking stuck here, beneath Madani’s thumb until she tired of him. 

It was naive to think that he’d be home today, maybe drinking coffee that you had made specifically for him, bringing flowers to the cemetery, taking Max for a walk, trying to have a quiet day in Lisa’s memory instead of waiting around to deal with two scumbags who got paid to arm other criminals. He should have just shot them.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a rough hand, he stalked to the bathroom to clean up–given that a man covered in blood would probably scare the poor waitress at the diner down the street shitless. As he was rubbing a towel through his hair, his phone buzzed–presumably with a curt message from Madani about something else he’d done wrong. Groaning internally, he braced himself for another argument, but it never came. 

Instead, his phone had an unopened message from you. Flicking open the home screen, he felt a weight fall off his shoulders as he pulled up the photo you’d attached. 

It was a beautiful picture of you holding a basket of vibrantly colored cherries in the midst of some sort of farmer’s market. Your delicate features were highlighted by an array of pinks and oranges, courtesy of the sunrise in the background. Your smile was bright, your eyes sparkling as you beamed at the camera. 

Your first message was a simple explanation of your morning activities. 

You: It’s market day! I bought these gorgeous cherries to make some tarts. I’ll save you one ;)

As he was rereading the message, allowing his general irritation to fade as thoughts of you flooded his brain, his phone vibrated again. 

You: Thinking of you today. I’m just a text away if you need anything ❤️

Sinking down onto the motel bed, his throat constricted as he processed the sentiment. He was surprised that you remembered today was hard for him, even more so that you offered to be a line of support. But that was exactly who you were, wasn’t it? Someone who cared so deeply for the people around her, and for some fucking reason that included Frank. 

Typing and retyping a response to you, Frank blew out a breath. He felt almost…jittery. 

Frank: Thanks, sunshine. That means a lot. I’m looking forward to that cherry tart when I get back. 

You: I’ll make you as many as you want, Frankie. 

Lips twitching, he imagined you whirling around your kitchen in one of your signature patterned dresses making him a special batch of pastries. His heart squeezed painfully; your absence was taking a toll on him that he had not expected. Before he could consider his next message to you, Madani’s number flashed on the screen, indicating an incoming call. Lips curling into a silent snarl, he answered. 

“What, Madani?” He rumbled out.

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine.” Her response wasn’t meant to dig under his skin, she simply meant it as a superficial jab, but the inclusion of the pet name he associated with you ignited a white hot anger in his gut, feral and hungry. 

“The fuck do you want,” He bit out. 

“Watch your tone, Castle. Remember who owes whom a favor here.”

Rolling his eyes, he brought out a more polite tone. “Yes, ma’am.”  

She huffed across the line, “Fuck you too. We found them. I’ll send the coordinates now.” 

“Lookin’ forward to it.” He ended the call.

Stretching your legs as best you could beneath the hefty pitbull, you sighed. 

It had been hours since Frank’s last text and you were not handling it well–the image of the little typing bubble on his side of the text chain haunting your every moment. Logically, the presence of those three flashing dots just meant he had started to type something and then forgot or had something else to attend to, but that knowledge didn’t quell the anxiety growing in your chest. 

He was out there, doing god knows what, on his daughter’s 18th birthday, presumably alone and hurting–and there was nothing you could do but wait. And cook him a lasagna of course. Which you had, giving your apartment the pleasant aroma of onions, tomatoes, and ricotta cheese as the dish baked. 

Your consciousness vibrated with the tenacity of an anxious chihuahua, listless with boredom and concern about your sweetheart of a neighbor. Squirming out from under Max’s head, you chuckled as the sleepy pitbull huffed in annoyance. “Sorry, bubba. I need to move around.”

In the final 30 minutes that you lasagna baked, you managed to throw together some simple pastry dough and pull out the small basket of cherries from your fridge. Popping one of the scarlet fruits into your mouth, you began to pluck the remaining stems off before removing their pits. Once they’d been sufficiently prepped, and your hands were adequately smattered with droplets of maroon fruit juice, you dumped them unceremoniously into a pot to create a compote. It didn’t necessarily pair well with lasagna, but you’d promised Frank a cherry pastry. 

Originally, you’d considered making him a cherry basil frangipane, identical to the ones you’d stacked in the bakery’s display case that morning. But, after the day he’d probably had, you figured he’d want something…less intricate. The compliment you’d given him during his first visit to the cafe still held true–Frank was simple and honest. He wasn’t difficult to please, but fancy words and expensive ingredients alone wouldn’t cut it. The food had to be good. So, you pulled out all the stops, making a recipe that you hadn’t made since you lived with Leo: cherry turnovers. 

Unlike your wonderful neighbor, the majority of patrons in the city needed a reason besides quality to continue giving you business. Elaborately decorated pastries and unique flavor profiles were what kept the cafe in business, so you hadn’t tried selling a modest dessert like these since your first few weeks at the Rainy Day Bakery. It was familiar, comforting even. You hoped it would bring Frank similar satisfaction. 

Trading the bubbling lasagna for a tray of triangle-shaped pastries, you brushed your hands on your hips. Re-covering the pasta dish, you hurriedly cleaned your kitchen, wiping away the traces of flour and sugar that inevitably dusted your countertops after you baked. As you rinsed out the mixing bowl, a high-pitched whimper popped the bubble of silence surrounding your apartment. Sitting rigidly by the door to your apartment, Max’s dark eyes pleaded with you. 

“Gosh, you’re right, bud! It is dinner time. I’m sorry, I got carried away. Let’s go get you set up, huh?” 

Snatching Frank’s spare key from your counter, you attached Max’s thick leash to his collar and jogged him back to his apartment, adding an extra handful of kibble as an apology for making him wait. Stroking his short fur a few times, you slipped the key into your pocket, scurrying back over to your apartment to grab the turnovers before they caught fire and reduced the building to ashes. 

Carefully balancing the pastries and lasagna in your hands, you marched back over to Frank’s apartment. Pretty soon, and with only one close call, the food was lined up on Frank’s countertop to cool. Brushing your hands together, you admired your handiwork. 

“Please tell me ya haven’t been sittin’ here with the door open all night.” 

The gruff voice behind you made you jump in shock. Whirling around, your fear morphed into pure joy as you took in the ruggedly handsome man before you.

“Shit, Frankie! You snuck up on me.” You practically squealed, rushing to hug him in greeting. He grunted as you slammed against him, hissing as you squeezed your arms around his hips. Eyes widening in realization, you started to pull back. “Oh fuck, you’re hurt, aren’t you? I’m so sorry, I–” 

Before you could unwrap your arms from his body, his broad hands splayed across your back, muscular arms tugging you back against his firm chest. 

“‘M fine, honey.” Came Frank’s soothing rumble. You felt him press a kiss to your crown before he buried his face in your hair. “Missed you like crazy, sunshine.” His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want you to hear the darling confession. 

“God, I missed you too, Frankie.” You chuckled, your eyes prickling with tears, your body in awe of your own honesty. With his stubbled chin atop your head and his thick arms around your waist, you felt entirely sheltered by his body. He’d created a bubble of safety and serenity for you, as he always did. 

Remaining in his arms, you shifted out from under his head to examine him. Though you’d felt it across your scalp, his beard was noticeably overgrown and in need of a trim. His hair greasy and mussed, streaked with grime, just like his face. The skin of his face was tinged red, with blush or sunburn you weren’t quite sure, and the bags under his eyes were deep. In spite of yourself, your bottom lip stuck out, brow pinching in concern. Bringing a hand up to cradle his face, you stroked a thumb gently over his cheek, careful to avoid the sizeable bruise across it. 

“Oh sweetheart. What did they do to you?” You asked quietly, feeling choked up as the hulking man nuzzled into your touch, his eyes falling shut with a weary sigh. 

“It’s nothin’.” He murmured, his words worn out—as if he’d spoken them so many times they’d lost all meaning. 

“Then it shouldn’t take long to get you cleaned up.” You smiled, the gesture not making it to your eyes. Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to his prickly cheek before unwinding his arms from your waist. He started to retract his arms, to tuck them against his sides, but you caught his fingers with yours, grasping his hands tenderly. “Come sit, sweetheart. You must be exhausted.” 

The poor man didn’t argue. Instead, he let you tug him to the couch and sit him down, his lips twitching with fond amusement when you tucked a blanket around his shoulders. “This ain’t mine.” 

You shrugged, the hint of a smirk tugging at your lips. “I redecorated.” 

“I was barely gone three days.” Frank snorted, rolling his eyes at you. 

Poorly stifling a smile as you pretended to be annoyed, you spoke as though it was obvious why you’d done it. “Your apartment is freezing, Frank. Did you want me and Max to get hypothermia while you were gone?” 

He huffed a laugh. “Still bossy.” Letting his head tip back to meet the spine of the couch, his eyes fluttered shut. Your cool touch manifested on his cheek once again. 

“Do you have a first aid kit, Frankie?” 

“Under the bathroom sink.” He answered, his words slurred ever so slightly with fatigue. He received a slight squeeze of his arm in response, your warm fingers leaving a lasting imprint on his skin. 

A year ago, he would never have let himself have this—a moment of peace. Time to let his guard down, to trust someone else to ease his pain. But the combination of his aching body, his heavy eyelids, and your fussing nature had him letting go of a tension he’d held for years, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Soft footsteps alerted him to your presence. Though his eyes were closed, he could hear you shuffle into a crouch, your chest positioned at his knees. 

Stifling a groan, he straightened his posture, wincing slightly as the motion tugged on his day old stitches. His eyes immediately focused on your adorable form in front of him, your own gaze roaming over the various bruises covering his visible skin. Dipping a washcloth into a small bowl of water, you gently lifted his wrist, washing away the dried blood on his knuckles. As you worked, a small river of dirty water–tinged pink from his scarlet blood–dripped down his fingers and onto your dress. 

He watched the trio of droplets fall, time slowing as if to highlight the moment that reignited his anxiety. Splashing across the multicolored fabric, the liquid seeped into your skirt, staining it as you held his hand. Your kindness was endless, and his presence was tarnishing it, ruining it, ruining you. 

Jerking his hand backwards, he cradled it close to his chest. “Lemme do this. I’m gettin’ blood on your pretty dress, sunshine.” He started to stand but you shook your head, gently pushing him back into the cushion and taking his hand in your grasp once again. 

Looking directly into his eyes with an intensity that you always seemed to carry, your lips curved into a small smile. “Frank, it’s just a dress, sweetheart. I promise it’s ok. Let me help you?” With your free hand, you stroked a wayward strand of his hair off of his clammy forehead.

Despite the fact that your gaze conveyed your desire to continue patching him up regardless of his answer, your tone was stilted–giving him the option to deny your help. 

“You’re too sweet for your own damn good, you know.” He sighed, letting his arm go limp in your grip to let you finish what you’d started. 

“Well, you’re too stoic for yours. Makes us quite a pair, doesn’t it?” Your eyes glimmered roguishly, your smirk encouraging him to roll his eyes. 

“Whatever you say, sunshine.” He snorted, knowing full well that you were right. 

You made quick work of tidying up the split skin across his knuckles, moving on to the bruised skin of his cheeks. 

“Didn’t know you were growing this out, Frankie.” You quipped, tugging gently on the untamed curls of his beard. 

His lips twitched, revealing a glimpse of his teeth as he smiled. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it. Whaddya think?” 

Making a great show of shuffling back to study his face, you tapped your chin. “I like it.” 

“You do? Last time it was this long, everyone thought I was some sort of hipster.” 

Shrugging, you focused your eyes back on the cloth in your hand. “I always like how you look, Frankie.” 

Frank’s breath caught in his throat, unable to quite make it to his lungs. Thankfully, he could blame his lack of response on the fact that you were rinsing the injuries on his face, rather than his own lack of emotional intelligence. 

Eventually, you heaved out a breath, looking at him with a raised brow. “Did you want me to look at whatever’s bothering you here?” You asked, gesturing to his hip. 

“If I told ya I have no idea what you mean, would ya call me on it?” He grumbles, not quite sure how he’d feel revealing that much of himself to you. 

You thought for a minute. Nodding once, you answered. “I’d roll my eyes, but respect your desire for privacy.” 

Swallowing thickly, he huffed a nervous laugh. “Fair enough.” With two fingers, he tugged his loose shirt up and over his head, not bothering to disguise his grimace as he rotated his injured shoulder. Pulling the waistband of his pants down an inch, he suddenly felt a surge of fear, not sure how you’d react to seeing his array of scars. 

Inhaling sharply, you traced around his stitches with a finger. “Oh, Frank.” 

“It’s—“

“It’s not nothing.” Taking his hands again, your intensity returned. “You mean something to me. Seeing you hurt…it’s never nothing, ok? Not to me.”

A lump formed in his throat, he nodded as he tried to swallow it down. “Sorry.” 

“No apology necessary,” You squeezed his hands, placing a tender kiss on the raw knuckles of his right hand before grabbing a roll of bandages from your pile of supplies. “I’m not upset that you’re hurt. I just don’t want you to be afraid to lean on someone else for a change.” 

You dressed his larger wounds in contemplative silence, your soft skin a welcome change to the rough contact he was used to. 

“How’d ya learn to patch people up, sunshine? Playin’ nurse for other neighborhood menaces behind my back?” 

You giggled. “You’re my only patient currently. Cross my heart. I’ve just gotten used to first aid after injuring myself my whole life.” 

Bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, Frank’s brow furrowed. “Injurin’ yourself? What do you mean?” 

Eyes widening in realization, you shook your head. “Not intentionally! I’ve just been a klutz for as long as I can remember.” Chuckling sheepishly, you added, “Takes a toll every once in a while.” 

Laughing with relief, he traced a finger along your jaw as he withdrew his hand from your face. “Ah, gotcha. Christ, had me scared there, pretty girl.” 

Your face flushed with heat at the new pet name. You tied off the fresh bandages and stood up. “You should be good to go, unless you’ve got any other areas that need to be looked at?” 

Blushing as his mind traveled to less innocent places, he shook his head. “I’m fine, honey. Thank you. Really.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” You winked at him, heading to the kitchen to dispose of the dirty water and trash. As you rinsed the last of the grime from the bowl you’d used, Frank moaned behind you. 

“Holy shit.” His words were mumbled around a mouthful of pastry, the other half of a cherry turnover in his hand. Swallowing with another horrifically attractive noise, he lifted the dessert in a gesture. “Did you make these?” 

“Yes, but they were for after dinner!” You scolded, your smile completely betraying your feigned annoyance. “Cherry turnovers. Do you like them?”

“No, they’re awful.” Frank deadpanned, shoving the rest of the pastry into his mouth ungracefully. You giggled, uncovering the lasagna before he could reach for another turnover. 

“Would you like some actual food, you heathen?” You asked through stray laughs. 

“You made me a lasagna?” 

“Thought you might want some comfort food today. So I made two of my favorites.” 

“Thank you,” Frank spoke your name gravely, as if it was a prayer. “God, sunshine, I dunno what to say.” Your heart ached as his voice cracked around the words.

“You don’t need to say anything, handsome. Just eat, so you can rest soon, yah?” 

Frank couldn’t help but let the tension he’d been carrying for days roll off his back like droplets of water, his eyes crinkling with fondness as you puttered around his kitchen as if you had it memorized. You plated two hearty servings of lasagna and took a seat next to him, handing him a fork. 

“I’m glad you made it back safely.” You smiled, your gaze more timid than he’d ever seen it. 

“Me too, sunshine.” After placing a kiss on your forehead, he speared the fork into the food on his plate, taking a massive bite. 

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” Frank groaned, beaming at you. 

Laughing brightly, you took a bite of your own, overjoyed to have Frank to eat with again. 

Thanks for reading! As always, comments and reblogs are incredibly appreciated.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484@xxdrix@smhnxdiii@mattmurdocksstarlight@danzer8705

[tmntheadcanons]

Hi, just wondering something.

What do you think their hygiene habits would be like?

Shower/bath? How long for? How often? Temperature? Scented soap? Skincare? Would any of them sing? Listen to music or sports on the radio? Would any of them pamper themselves or want to get the job done quick?

Ooh this is a good one, okay here's my take.

Leo:

If Leo has the time for it he will opt for a long, warm bath.

He treats the bath like it's his personal spa. He takes long, 2 hour baths where he turns off all the lights, lights a bunch of candles and listens to nature sounds or something while he just relaxes.

I think he would use scented soaps. Anything that smells fresh. Could also see him using bath salts or maybe even a bath bomb if he has some around.

He's quiet in the bath. He puts his sounds on and he closes his eyes and just lays there.

Leo bathes once a day typically. If he doesn't have time for a bath he will settle for a hot shower but it's not his preference.

He's got a rigid skincare routine

He also tends to bathe late at night. He's busy during the day so it'll be at the end of the night around the time everyone else is in bed.

Raph:

Scalding hot showers

He doesn't like baths because they take too long

He showers when he needs to. I think once a day after training would be his routine. If he doesn't train for whatever reason that day I think he would probably skip a day, but it's every 1-2 days for him.

His showers are very practical. He's in and out, 15-20 minutes, gets the job one and doesn't linger. I know they don't have hair but Raph strikes me as a 5-in-1 soap kind of guy. Like he has one bottle of soap in the shower that's his and it's all he uses.

But I could also see him occasionally stealing some of Leo's fancy soaps. Like he judges him and then the second Leo leaves it out on the bathroom counter he steals it.

His showers are pretty short

He absolutely sings in the shower. He thinks he's quietly singing to himself but everyone can absolutly hear him.

Donnie:

He likes showers at a moderate temperature

He cannot stand when the water is too hot so it never goes above halfway

I could see him using cold showers to wake himself up, or kind of like a jolt to reset his brain when he's working on something. But typically he goes somewhere in the middle temperature wise.

He doesn't listen to anything when he's in the shower but he lets his mind wander a bit. He might end up muttering a whole conversation to himself in the shower while he's thinking.

Showers every 1-2 days typically.

He spends about 5 minutes actually bathing and spends the next 25 minutes just standing in the shower

Mikey:

Mikey likes showers on the cooler side.

He doesn't shower as often as his brothers do, it's maybe every 3 days. It's not even a conscious thing he refuses to do he just forgets.

He doesn't have any specific soap, he uses the first thing he grabs.

Not only does he sing in the shower, he BELTS. He treats the shower like it's a karaoke session. Or he acts out scenes in the shower like it's a one man show.

He keeps the radio playing while he's in the shower. I also feel like occasionally he might have a shower snack. Like he'll bring a bag of grapes or something and just munch on them while he has his shower concert

He is also guilty of stealing Leo's nice soap.

He doesn't shower as often but his showers are on the longer side. Maybe 45 to an hour.

[stayandot8]

Pieces of Light

Genre: Fluff

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend

Important Contents: contains a letter that I wish I could read to him, gets very sappy, soz not soz

WC: 3.2k

masterlist

The sun was very rudely peering through the curtains and directly into my eyeballs. The other disturbance that woke me was the absence of my boyfriend's warmth against my back. I roused myself awake enough to turn my head to face the cold side of the bed in time to see Chan coming out of the bathroom, showered, dressed, and putting on shoes that indicated he was leaving me for the day. I waited until he saw that I was semi-awake to pull my arm out from under the blanket to reach for him. He chuckled and moved back to the bed and leaned down to kiss my face. 

“You’re so cute when you just wake up.” He whispered against my cheek, moving from my forehead and making his way down. I grumbled. 

“Then I must be downright adorable.” I couldn't help the smile as his lips attacked my face. I had to physically push him away. “You have work to do, sir. Bring me Wolfchan and be on your way.” He laughed as he brought the plushie to me and tucked it in beside me. He kissed me once more. 

“I shouldn’t be too long today. Just some finishing touches. I don’t know who all will be home. Enjoy your day off, baby.”

“I’ll enjoy it more when I’m sleeping again.” I closed my eyes and rolled to my side, facing the door. I could tell by the sigh he let out that he was still in the doorway. I peeped an eye open to see that I was right. I opened both eyes to glare at him as a giggle escaped my lips.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” He closed the door behind him, leaving me to dream of him in peace.

***

The apartment was quiet when I finally dragged myself out of bed to satiate my grumbling stomach. I was eating my leftovers from the night before on the couch, watching something stupid when Hyunjin walked through the door. I craned my neck to see who it was and when I saw, I immediately noticed his demeanor was solemn, more so than when he was just tired. 

“Hey Jinnie.” He merely nodded in my direction before opening the fridge to grab a drink. He closed it, leaned against the door and took a long swig of the plastic bottle. His eyes were shut as he sighed deeply. “Is something wrong?” I questioned.

“There is but I don’t know what. I’m not hungry, I’m not sad, I don’t know what it is. I just feel off. I couldn’t get all the moves right at practice and my vocals were just off when I was trying to record. Han sent me home, told me to reset myself and we would try again tomorrow.” 

Hmm. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I chirped, racking my brain for my Jinnie survival guide. Offering help was one of the steps other than just leaving him be. 

“I may not know exactly what’s wrong but I know that the thought of being alone doesn’t sit right. Can I join you out here? I might need to just distract myself and not think about it too much.”

“Of course you can. Go change into something more comfortable, get out of your work clothes. We can find something for you when you get back.” He nodded and left the room, taking his bag off as he disappeared through the hall.

This wasn’t not like him, but this kind of off wasn’t like him at all. Most days it was one or the other. The more I thought about it, he did seem awfully tired lately. It seemed like he only slept for a few hours a night but I assumed it was normal. Seemed like the dancing weasel had just worked himself too much. Luckily I had a suggestion ready for when he came out. 

“Come sit in front of me.” I threw a pillow in between my legs on the floor in front of the couch where I wanted him. His brows drew together as he followed the pillow, the side eye he gave me equal evidence of his confusion. “Just trust me.” He sat as I brought my legs up to make room for him. I handed the remote to him. “If you can’t decide or don’t feel like deciding, I’ll do it for you.” He nodded again and flipped through the streaming services to find what piqued his interest. I waited until he was properly distracted to run my hands through his hair.

“Wha-” He sharply turned to me, squirming away from me. “Geez, give me a warning.” He scooted back as I laughed at his sharp reaction and positioned him back to where he was. I started running them again all around wherever I wanted across his scalp. I saw the tension in his shoulders relax the more I did, his head lolling back into my lap as his eyes closed. He stayed there a while, content. I watched the stress in the corners of his eyes smooth away. I thought he might fall asleep this way. 

“Jinnie, don’t fall asleep.” I warned him. 

“But you have magic hands, I can’t help it. How dare Channie-hyung keep them all to himself.” I lightly slapped his cheek as he finally let out a laugh. I shook my head in exasperation. I gathered some hair to his side and rolled his head to get better access. I started braiding as I gathered my will to break his relaxation. 

“Hyunjin.” I nudged him with my knee. This was my evil way of keeping him awake for the time being. 

“Hm?” His eyes remained closed. 

“You still have to pick a show.” He grumbled as he patted his hand around his immediate vicinity, trying to find the remote without opening his eyes.

“Too far…” He mumbled with a sigh as he settled back down into the pillow he was sitting on, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

“Oh whatever, you drama king.” I laughed along with him as I continued to run my hands through his hair until the front door opened again. 

“Hi Binnie.” My words were drowned out by the shouting that followed the closing door.

“Hyunjin-ah! Come with me to the gym. It’ll get you out of your funk.” Changbin throws his studio bag onto the kitchen counter. The disgust on Hyunjin’s face caused me to snort-laugh. Loudly. 

“I think I’ll pass.” Hyunjn grabs his drink off the table. “I’m going to go draw or something. Thanks for that.” He gives me a soft smile before he disappears down the hall to his room. My eyes follow him then landed on Changbin’s frown as his eyes did the same. His shoulders dropped as his pupils roamed until they landed on me. His smirk appeared shortly after as he tilted his head in question. It took me a moment before I understood what he was implying.

“No. There’s no way. There is no way you’re dragging me to that death trap of metal and sweat. No way.”

***

“You better be paying at least.” Changbin chuckled at my quick remark, setting down his last set of dumbbells and strolled to his water bottle in the corner of the gym. He was sweaty from his workout, the towel he wiped said perspiration on in the corner. The bench I was laying on had grown warm from my own body heat. I was there so that he didn’t have to come alone. He didn’t like going to the gym alone if he didn’t have to and when he saw me, he wasn’t going to give up. The final blow was the lunch I was promised when he was done. Which he said he would be a half hour ago. 

“I am. I promised, didn’t I?” His stroll over to my bench was more of a saunter, grabbing his phone to check his notifications. 

“Let’s go to that place Jeongin told me about last night. You can cook me some pork since I’m paying.” He peeked his eyes over his phone to giggle at me. I narrow my eyes at him in challenge. 

“In your dreams.”

“But I’ll burn the place down if I try to do it! Don’t you remember last time what happened when we went out with Chan-hyung? You almost caught on fire. I think it’s safer if you do it. For your own sanity.” That stupid smirk… I had to roll my eyes at him. My retort was interrupted on the way to my mouth as the gym door squeaked open. We both turned to who was pushing his blonde head in to find Felix, not looking surprised in the least to find Changbin in the gym. But when his eyes landed on me, his brows shot up in surprise then crinkled. 

“What on earth are you doing in here?” He said as he came into the room fully and shoved his hands into the pockets of his practice pants, his loose tshirt visibly damp from sweat. 

“I was dragged here under the promise of food but SOMEONE is taking too long with his workout so I might just leave without him.” I finally sit up properly, straightening my black Stray Kids hat on my head and glaring at the dark haired buff man wiping down his equipment. 

“Oh good! I was coming in here to see if Changbin wanted to eat but now we can all go together if you’re up for it.” Felix was impossible to say no to when he got excited about something, his eyes got big and his smile showed all of his perfectly white teeth. When he got really excited, he started bouncing on his toes in anticipation, his fluffy hair bouncing with him up and down. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Let’s go.” I beamed at him, Changbin following close behind me.

“Yongbokie, you have to cook the food now!” He shouted in glee as the gym door closed behind him. My eye roll was audible. 

***

That restaurant didn’t know what hit them as our trio left, stomachs full and our chattering growing in volume by the minute. As we strolled back to the building, Felix made a stop in a product store nearby. 

“It’s Hyunjin’s birthday soon. He’s been saying that he wants this new hair product for a while. I’m just going to check if they have it for him.” And with that, he left me and Changbin outside on a bench nearby, the breeze brushing Changbin’s cologne in waves across my nostrils. 

“You know, your cologne smells really nice. I’ve been wanting to get one for Chan but I never know what kind of smells he likes.” I had been thinking about it a lot lately, what kind of gift I could get that he would actually use. He was showering me with anything I could possibly want or need and I was having trouble finding anything that I could get the man who wouldn’t buy anything nice for himself. I was starting at the top of my list, fishing out his members for what he could want. 

“I don’t know that he likes things like that. He’s always buying things for other people.” Changbin’s tone was light, but the words hit me harder than they should have.

“I know. That’s why I want to get him something nice just because. He’s always buying things for me and I always thank him but I want to get him something he wouldn’t buy for himself.”

“That’s pretty much anything. Maybe something practical? He needs a new headset for his home studio.”

“No, I don’t want to get him something for work. He spends too much time working anyways.” Changbin nodded aggressively in agreement before letting me continue. “He spoils me and everyone around him so much. I just want to get him something nice, something he would use. He does so much for me and I just want him to know that I appreciate him for it. I want to make him feel special like he does for me.” Looking at the trees around us, I didn’t notice the soft smile that slid across Changbin’s face as he watched me. When I turned back, I finally noticed it. “What?” A nervous giggle escaped me as his eyes saw right through to my thoughts. 

“I’m just glad he finally found someone who deserves him.” 

“He’s special. It’s my job to make sure he knows it.” The flush in my cheeks was hot from his stare, still not letting up. I had to force myself to look away from him. “How about a letter? I think he’ll like that, right?” A small giggle escaped his lips and his eyes wandered around the nature around us, not quite focused on what he was seeing. As if reliving a memory. 

“Yeah. I think he’d love that.”

Felix came strolling back up to us, bag in hand. “You guys ready?” We nodded, standing to return home, the air a little heavier than it was before we left. 

***

Finding a physical piece of paper and a pen was harder than I would’ve ever imagined in an apartment full of boys. But after pestering Hyunjin for a nice piece and one of his better pens, I finally sat down at Chan’s desk in his room. Staring at the blank paper, I couldn’t help but think of all of the memories of the past months with him. I zoned out on the blank sheet as floods of laughs, tears, late night cuddling sessions, and beautiful words filled my senses. How am I going to put all of this into words? I figure the best way to start was to just start writing, the words coming to me as soon as my pen touched down. I hadn’t realized how long I had been writing until I heard my favorite voice hit my ears.

“What are you doing over there so focused?” I whipped my head around to see him standing by the door with a big smile on his face. I couldn’t help the grin to match. 

“Just a little something for you, my love.” I said as I turned back to the paper to fold it up so he couldn’t see. The shuffle of his footsteps halted. I turned with raised brows to see him mid-step, staring at me dumbfounded. “What? What did I do?” It took him a second to speak, his gears still processing. 

“‘My Love’?” His chest was rising and falling quicker now, his eyes never leaving me. My pulse jumped. The smile replaced the one before was bigger, his affection palpable through his gaze. He ran to me to throw his arms around me, suffocating any doubt I ever had that he cared for me as much as he was capable. Smothering me in his lips, he kissed everywhere he could reach, his words being broken up only by his adorable attack. “That is.” He kissed my forehead. “The only thing.” My left cheek. “You are EVER.” My right cheek. “Allowed to call me.” My nose. “Ever.” He finally touched my own lips with his in a sweet kiss. His hands grasping my own head on either side, holding me and rubbing his thumbs on my cheeks. I could feel my own heart swell and threaten to suffocate my lungs with how much love radiated off of him. 

“Deal. Now I’m going to make myself some tea. Here.” I handed him the folded paper with my remaining confidence. “Read this while you’re waiting. I’ll be back.” I got up from his chair to do just that as he replaced my spot and opened the letter and started to read.

Chris, 

Growing up, I always idolized what love could be. From all of the greats, there was always something missing from their stories: a dose of reality. I always wanted an intellectual and interesting love like Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Or full of Romeo’s devotion to Juliet. There will always be the Jacks and Roses of the world, love fast and all-consuming. I didn’t think a love as powerful as that had any chance of being real. My own skeptic mind was always telling me that real love had to be hard and full of its own challenges along the way. I never believed love could truly just be fun, light, and full of pure and simple fondness. Until you.

You have made me into a person that I never thought I could be. Someone who believes in love in its truest and most pure form because I see it with my own eyes. I see it in you. You are the purest form of love a person can have the pleasure in this life to experience.  Simply the joy of knowing you is in itself a form of love. You transform everyone you encounter. Your being encourages the other to raise themselves to be better. You are an authentic vessel of the universe’s care for the human soul. Even during your darkest days, your most horrific moments, there is still a light that cannot be ignored. You simply shine.

You have this way of making whoever has the privilege of being around you feel like they are the most special to you. It is a hard task to make people feel like physical sunshine inside and out. The butterflies you so freely give stay with them as if they were permanent attachments. Pieces of yourself, your light, find their way in and settle into whatever place they are needed most. 

You have made me your own in every possible way. Your eyes are full with silent declarations that have no need of verbalization. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then, my darling, I can think of no better view. You have fixed the most broken parts of me. Some I was aware of, most I was not. You came into my world when I needed you most and decided that it was a place you wanted to stay. For that, I will always be grateful. 

My soul is yours. Now and Always. 

I waited in the kitchen, too scared to see his real-time reaction happening right in front of me. My mug was half empty as I leaned against the counter. I heard the shuffling shortly after, my boyfriend appearing with eyes misty and unfocused. 

“Chris?” My voice seemed to cut through the voices in his head as he finally looked at me. I placed my cup back on the counter, still warm. He slowly crossed over to me, close enough that I could see the tears that had already been wiped away. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. 

“Do you mean it?” The hope in his eyes was enough to make me break into many pieces. 

“Every word.” He rested his forehead on mine, his breath mingling with my own as his eyes closed. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you go now.” He shook his head to further make his point. I smiled and breathed him in, this man that I was so truly in love with. 

“I sure hope not. You have completely ruined anyone else for me. You’re all I want or will ever need.” He sniffled and I brought him closer, letting my arms find their usual place around his waist. He wound his arms around my shoulders and held me close, repairing every last sharp edge that remained in me.

[sluttyhenley]

Tag Game: First 10 Lines Challenge

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

Tagged by @starrybouquet - thank you!! 💖

bluebirds singing a song masters of the air, buck/bucky/marge

Marge was puttering around in the kitchen; she felt like she’d been there all day. Avoiding John Egan, though she wouldn’t admit that unless pressed. Gale had to go into the office to put out a fire. He made it sound like a literal fire and now there was no buffer between her and John, no one to smooth out John’s increasingly obvious discomfort with her.

nothing but blue skies from now on masters of the air, buck/bucky/marge

Marge pulled back the curtains and looked out the window to see clouds piling up outside, dark and heavy with the promise of rain. A storm was brewing. She grimaced. John was supposed to arrive a couple of hours ago; instead, he had gotten stuck somewhere around Douglas when the storm hit, and now it was rolling their way. With the weather growing worse, they had no idea when he would arrive.

can't tell your best buddy (that you love him) top gun: maverick, rooster/phoenix

Phoenix is tipsy and her feet hurt. She’s been out all night, one of those mandatory fun, social events with the other officers in her squadron, but it had been fun. It had been fun and she had dressed up. She’s wearing one of the most impractical pairs of shoes she owns, and she’s definitely regretting that choice now.

come monday, it'll be alright top gun: maverick, gen

Missiles fire all around her. Bob is in her ear, watching her back, a second pair of eyes. Adrenaline floods her veins but still she doesn’t panic. They can all get home. Nothing about her training could have ever really prepared her for what it is to be in an actual firefight against enemy pilots.

you rattle my brain top gun: maverick, rooster/phoenix

The thing about Natasha Trace, callsign Phoenix, is that she’s really difficult to ignore. The first time he sees her walk into a room, Rooster can’t seem to stop the way his entire focus zeroes in on her.

been around a time or two top gun: maverick, maverick/phoenix

Phoenix was puttering around her apartment downtown, thinking about dinner. It was late and the sun had dropped below the horizon long ago. She couldn’t even get off the air station before sunset. She opened her refrigerator door and contemplated ordering in.

put a hold on my heart top gun: maverick, rooster/phoenix

Rooster didn’t call her when he got back stateside, and it shouldn’t even matter. It’s just that, she told him she was recalled back to TOPGUN. She thought maybe he’d say something. It hurts. She wishes it didn’t, wishes she was mad at him. And she is; the anger is there, too, but it’s mostly hurt.

made a lot of mistakes in my mind the bear, sydney/carmy

The restaurant is practically empty now. There’s only a handful of the staff left, and the streets are almost quiet in the aftermath of their soft opening. Sydney can’t stop the list running through her head. It’s a loop: things done, things in process, things still needing to get done.

my heart is working overtime 9-1-1, buck/eddie

Eddie has been going on dates. So many dates and not a single one of them has felt right. Hen and Chim are starting to tease him about being too picky. Bobby keeps reassuring him it just takes time. Buck doesn’t say much of anything at all.

tomorrow and tomorrow edge of tomorrow, bill/rita

“Yes? What do you want?” Rita Vrataski doesn’t remember him. Of course she doesn’t. This is his reset. Not hers.

first line, first paragraph, whatever

one thing about me is i will drop the reader in the middle of a scenario. but i'll establish pretty quickly what pov i'm working in too so i mean, i guess there's that? also. first paragraphs my absolute beloathed. every one of these was reworked over and over and over and over before posting

tagging (no pressure as always!): @redbelles, @ladywaffles, @reachingforaspark, @lannisterdaddyissues, @katetylers and uhh idk anyone else who sees this and wants to do it

[gagsolineoilrefinery]

brian headcanons? pretty please

Smiles so big and wide at you yes absolutely I love that little freak

putting under a read more for convenience's sake

- I'm 100% a Bug Brian truther, that man is an insect you can't convince me otherwise, I like to think he can make weird little chittering noises and climbs up walls with his hands and feet for enrichment

- He's trans and has no last name because he didn't care enough to pick a new one so he went with none, acts all mysterious about it because he thinks it makes him look cool

- This man needs glasses so fucking badly but after a litany of "nerd" comments growing up he refuses to wear them, has attempted contacts but cant get them in his eyes for the life of him

- He would genuinely rather die than go to the factory, he does all his needed repairs on himself unless he's forced to (usually by Ben or William)

- He gets along with his co workers in, his own way when he's forced to interact with them. He does not understand how to behave "appropriately" around other people, he's my favorite rude autism icon (he is going to insult your intelligence at any given opportunity with what he sees as good intentions and does not understand why everyone hates him)

- I'm also a Bellthinker truther I think that british man should kiss that bug right on the brain dome and make him so flustered his systems soft reset

- Every time theres a meeting that he's in the second he's at the front of the room the entire mood changes because everybody knows he's gonna have a whole presentation planned thats no less than 1 hour long, and he will yell at you if you try to stand up for any reason

- I like to think living in the heart of toontown (right in the playground no less) definitely has some side effects on him, the silliness is rubbing off on him more than he realizes, most obviously things like his brain exploding comically when he starts baby raging

- Im sorry this man is absolutely a cog reddit user (coggit? idk) you can't change my mind, hes a power mod and proud of it, keeps getting talked to for using it on company time though

- He's very attatched to the Desk Jockeys but absolutely hates to admit it, I like to think its a Dr. Robotnik with Scratch and Grounder type dynamic (thinking especially like that one scene where Robotnik says "I don't even know why I bother to repair you guys, I suppose I'm too sentimental" shit like that)

- With his dynamics with the other toontown central managers, I think he actually feels very guilty about the incident that happened with Buck- but instead feigns a petty hatred for him so nobody will ask him about it and he doesn't have to admit how monumentally he fucked up

- He's on relatively chill terms with William, they're both angry big mouthed autistic people who do not know how to shut up so they mesh pretty well, I think they like to fight eachother to let off steam and then makeup immediately after, Brian isn't too fond of the whole oil leakage problem thing though because it makes a mess of his basement but he doesn't exactly hold it against him since he knows he can't help it

- When he can spare the time he loves poking around in the systems of his co workers just to see how they operate out of morbid curiosity and to see how he can make the jockeys more efficient, he's on that medic tf2 shit, not many of them let him do it though (understandably so)

- Probably went to whatever the cog equivalent of medical school was but lost his medical license after The Buck Incident™️

(And I think thats probably good for now because I am dangerously treading the line of infofumping about my AU sorry I have so many thoughts about this creature)

[yellowkitkieran]

To Have and To Heal (Part 5)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

Martin loves his teammates, he really does. They're his brothers in every way but blood. They'll lift him up if he hits a rough patch and keep his feet firmly on the ground when praise from the press threatens to inflate his ego. There's a few of them that are acutely tuned into his moods too, which generally he doesn't think twice about. 

Today however, he'd rather be left alone than have Kieran hovering over his shoulder. The Scotsman has been in Martin's shadow all day, a constant presence that he cannot shake. Today is an individually minded training day, each boy following their own tailored regime in the weights room for the first few hours, meaning Martin expected to be able to work off his mixed emotions. But having Kieran so close is grating on his nerves, until finally he can't stand it. 

"Mate, can I help you?"

Kieran pauses on his machine, brown eyes wide. "Erm, no? I mean I don't need a spot for leg presses so…" Kieran maintains his mask of innocence despite Martin's hard stare, which only further aggravates him. When Kieran flashes Martin a smile that's all teeth, Martin swears under his breath and resets his machine so he can turn to face his friend. 

"Why have you been shadowing me all day? You're like a- a…" Martin searches for the English word, his brain short circuiting. "A flea on a dog's back! I'm trying to work through something here-"

Kieran snaps his fingers and leans forward, "there! That's exactly what I've been waiting for- an admission! All week you've been off mate, everyone can tell. I'm just the unlucky one that got nominated to figure out why!"

Martin rolls his eyes. His lads are busy bodies. If they could mind their own business, Martin wouldn't feel so shitty because he might actually be able to process his things properly. Instead he's ended up more frustrated, because Kieran won't give him an inch to breathe. 

Yes, it's true. Martin has been quiet lately, keeping to himself more than usual. He isn't surprised that the team has picked up on it. He hasn't done anything to hide it. He's allowed Kieran to take over team talks instead of himself; anyone with half a brain would recognize his out of character behavior. That doesn't mean he's about to pour out the contents of his wilted heart to Kieran in the middle of a training session though. 

"I'm fine Kieran." Martin's response is a touch too firm, causing Kieran's eyebrows to shoot up. Martin draws a deep breath and dials it back, forcing a smile, "really, I'm fine mate. It's nothing I need to discuss, I'm working through it on my own."

Of course, being Martin's best friend means Kieran can see straight through his cheesecloth lie. It also means Kieran can read Martin like a book, thus knowing when it's best to leave an issue alone. So Kieran simply nods, murmurs a soft, 'I'm here if you need me' and continues on with his day. 

Once Kieran moves to another machine, the rubber band around Martin's chest eases enough for him to breathe properly. It allows him room to think and reflect. He needs to clear his head… which is part of the issue. 

Martin's head is a mess because you muddle his thoughts. It's gotten to the point that he can't walk outside and see the sun without thinking about you, and that terrifies Martin. 

He hasn't felt this way about anyone since the day he met Maria. She became the center of Martin's world from the moment he laid eyes on her, only shifting to make room for Atla when she was born. For three years his girls shared equal space in his heart, until fate stepped in and ripped one of them out of the picture. 

It took Atla a long time to understand what happened. Martin honestly isn't positive she understands now, actually. The weeks immediately following Maria's passing were the hardest. Each night Atla would ask for her mummy to tuck her in and listen to a story that Martin would read, and each night Martin had to gently remind her that mummy wasn't there. Martin lost count of how many times he'd told her 'Mum's in the sunset now søta, she's watching over you even if you can't see her'. Through it all, Atla rarely cried, thank god- a three year old doesn't truly know how to process grief after all. If Atla had shed tears, Martin isn't sure he would have survived. 

For two years, Martin has thrown all his energy into being a father. Anything he has to spare goes into being Arsenal's captain, and he thinks he's doing a pretty damn good job of balancing both. The learning curve was steep, and he still discovers new nuances about being a better parent nearly every day. The fathers on his team have been his backbone, though none of them understand the full weight he bears on his own shoulders. At the end of the day, they have partners to lean on. Martin only has himself. 

The scary part is, he's beginning to wonder if he's meant to be a single parent forever. He's found himself caught between a rock and a hard place: continuing to remain a loving, loyal widow, or chasing his own potential happiness. It feels like a betrayal to even consider letting someone new occupy his heart the way Maria had, but at the same time he wonders if it's fair to Atla to allow her to grow up without a maternal figure to guide her. He's not stupid; one day Atla will have questions he can't answer himself, ones that only a woman can answer properly. No matter how much research he conducts or how much he prepares himself, he will never experience the world the same way a woman might. 

Is he robbing Atla of a fundamental right, the right to grow up with a mum at her side? Everything he does is for Atla, for his daughter- is he being selfish by cutting himself off from the chance to find love?

"Oi Martin! Come on, we're headed to the pitch!"

For now, his questions will remain unanswered. He has a job to do, and he takes that job seriously. Martin quickly cleans up his mess and wipes down his machine before following the rest of his team outside for some small group drills, which is one of his favorite activities. 

Martin leads a round of keep away, passing back and forth in a small circle whilst Saka tries to intercept. It takes his mind off of anything you related, which comes as a welcome realization. Martin laughs with his friends, doubling over to clutch his stomach when Saka falls flat on his back after tripping over the ball. It feels good to be his normal self again, not having to worry about anything except the task at hand. 

The end of their session comes sooner than Martin expects. He showers and organizes his cubby, preferring things to be neat when tours come through. Then he makes his rounds to chat with the staff to ensure everyone knows they're an important part of the team in his eyes. Eventually he can't stall any longer and he is forced to head out to pick up Atla from school. 

There is a pit in his stomach as he pulls up to the limestone building. Pick up is simultaneously the part of his day that he dreads and that he looks forward to most. On one hand, pick up means he gets the rest of the night with his family. On the other hand, he has to see you, which is both a blessing and a curse. 

The gymnasium is on the opposite side of the school but he always parks out front, preferring to walk the halls and chat a bit when he can. Today he chats less, intent on seeing his daughter as soon as he can. He whistles quietly as he walks, smiling when he hears Atla clock his tune. 

"Papa's here!"

Martin is already crouched when she comes barreling over to wrap her little arms around his neck to squeeze him in a bear hug. At last Martin feels the remaining bits of his troubles melt away thanks to his daughter. She is the center of his world, and being with her makes him feel at home. 

"Hallo søta, did you learn lots today?" It takes everything in him to not immediately look up and meet your eyes. Martin still isn't sure how to act around you; he'd extended an olive branch in the form of chocolates and tulips and he is patiently waiting for you to reciprocate his energy. Until then, he is determined to leave you be.

"So much! I had a fun day- David tried chasing me on the playground but don't worry papa, I made sure he knew I wouldn't let him!" 

"She was very adamant," you say, your sweet voice drawing Martin's attention. Your smile is the first thing he truly notices. The next is the way you fiddle with the badge hanging around your neck, and the third is the way you shift your weight from one foot to the other. 

Martin tips his head and speaks before he can filter himself. "Those boots are new, they look nice. I feel like I've seen those in the window at Harrods, no?"

"Oh, um- yes actually, they were an early birthday treat to myself actually. I saw them and couldn't resist!" 

Martin would love to unpack that, so he smiles at Atla. "Go clean up your coloring things, lille venn, okay? Go on, don't make Miss. Sunshine clean up your mess!"

Once Atla is out of earshot, Martin stands to his full height and smiles. "Happy early birthday. I suppose I'll have to get you something, seeing as you do so much for Atla."

"Oh, you really don't need to Martin! I appreciate you just wishing me a happy birthday. That's really more than enough."

Martin's heart sings when you address him by name. It amazes him how something as simple as hearing you speak his name can set a flurry of butterflies loose in his stomach. 

"I'd like to get you something, if you're alright with that? I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable. From one friend to another?"

There it is, another try with the olive branch. Martin silently prays you'll accept it, because in honesty he still isn't sure how he feels about this whole thing and he wants some sort of confirmation that he isn't committing a match-ending foul. 

It takes you a minute, but Martin exhales when you nod. "I think that's fine, friends give each other presents all the time… friends also come to birthday parties, yeah?"

Your voice is soft as clouds and your eyes are tentative as they search his face. Martin is certain you pick up on his amazement. You must, because you've stunned him into silence. Martin isn't a man who is silent often. 

"Mar?"

Oh, faen. Not that name.

It's as if you reached into his consciousness and plucked out the one surefire way to sink yourself into his heart. He hasn't allowed anyone to call him Mar since his wife had passed because it never felt right. But now? Martin finds himself smiling despite the twinge of bittersweet memories. 

"Yes. I'll come if you let me know the details. Friends… friends attend birthday parties, that's a friendly thing."

Martin is falling hard. Guilt gnaws at him despite the excitement that washes over him when you grin, clearly feeling much the same as he is. Your smile quiets the war in his head temporarily, reducing the cacophony of noise to a whisper in the background. 

Amazing. Absolutely amazing that you have such an effect on him. He's lived with that noise for years and in seconds, you've dulled it to nothing. 

"I'll see you there." You bite your lip and tuck your hands behind your back, which is somehow the most endearing thing. "It's at that same bar you saw me at last month, this Friday. You don't have to drink or anything I promise, I know you have a match on Sunday!"

"I'll be there, I promise." It's as if Martin is seeing you for the first time. The way the sun filters through the skylight and illuminates the gentle planes of your face mesmerizes him. He notes the little curve of your lips that grows the longer he stares. Beautiful with a selfless soul- that's how he'd describe you. 

"Papa, I'm all done!" 

Atla shatters the moment when she tugs on Martin's sleeve. She's too adorable to be upset with, so Martin gives her a pass and offers you an apologetic smile which you accept with a wave of your hand. Martin scoops up Attie with little effort, propping her on his hip and kissing her rosy cheek. 

"Say goodbye to Miss. Sunshine," Martin prompts, smiling when Atla does just that. "I'll see you tomorrow," he adds, that same smile playing on his lips. 

"Tomorrow for sure, and then Friday evening."

"Wouldn't miss it, søta."

**********

"Kieran, I need you to watch Attie on Friday."

"Uhh sure mate, what for? It's pretty short notice, but you're lucky I don't have anything planned." 

"Shut up mate- if you had plans you wouldn't let any of us hear the end of it." 

Kieran drops his weights to the padded floor. The resulting thud rumbles through Martin's bones, "Okay, for one, that's harsh even if it is true. And second, why am I watching Attie? I mean I love her and I have no problem doing it, but what's so important that you'd leave her with me?"

Martin knows he can be honest with Kieran. He's probably the one person who won't ever judge him. Regardless, Martin wants to keep this secret for a little longer, at least until he sees how Friday goes. 

"I'm just going out with some friends. You're sure you can watch Atla? I can make you up a list of what to do."

Kieran chuckles, "Mate, it's not my first time watching my goddaughter. I got this! Bedtime is eight on the weekends, no television an hour before bed, and… Friday isn't a bath night so that makes my job easy! I'll plunk her down with a set of coloring books and some blank pages and we can go wild, it'll be fun!"

"Alright yeah, that seems fair. Just don't let her have too much-"

"Sugar, yes Martin I am aware!" Kieran waves a hand flippantly, "I know what I'm doing like I've said! Just have some fun doing whatever secret mission you've got, you need to loosen up a little."

"I do not-" Martin begins to snap, but then notes Kieran's amused smile and stops himself. Martin forces himself to breathe and unwind before finishing, "I do not need to loosen up, I'm doing just fine thank you." 

"Sure mate if you say so- you're just going out with 'friends' that aren't at Arsenal, nothing odd about that!"

Again with Kieran being annoyingly perceptive. Martin is beginning to think having a best mate is more trouble than it's worth. Kieran is lucky Martin loves him because in the end, having Kieran around is more beneficial than it is a nuisance. 

Once a time for drop off is agreed upon, the two part ways. Martin only has two days to come up with an outfit that's acceptable for a night out but also doesn't scream 'I'm trying to show off in front of all your friends', which is a struggle. Considering his closet is filled with basic t-shirts and designer jackets with no real in-between, he'll have to head out after training and buy something. 

The only issue is Martin has no clue what's what when it comes to fashion. Kieran at least has some sort of idea of what's trendy and looks good…

Martin sighs and heads back over to Kieran, "Mate, are you free tonight to help me shop?"

"Shop for what?" Kieran feigns innocence as he finishes up his set of curls. "Food? Because I'd think you pay someone to do that for you. At least that's what most of us lads do!"

"Don't make this hard for me, you know what I mean Kieran." Forcing Martin to voice things he isn't ready to is like pulling teeth. Not only is he reluctant to do so, but it's also incredibly painful and Martin would prefer to keep it to himself. And for some reason, Martin feels oddly protective over you, as if letting Kieran know it's you he's going on a pseudo-date with will allow Kieran to sweep you out from under him. For now, Martin feels safer with a cloak of mystery to protect him. 

Kieran clears his throat and drags Martin into the present. "Right, sorry mate. I'm free and I'd be happy to help you shop for something to wear- you'll have to give me some details though? What sort of place you're going to, as a bare minimum. I can't have you showing up to a steakhouse in Dunks, you know?"

Martin nods. That much he is comfortable sharing. "It's just a club, so nothing fancy. I just don't normally do casual? So I only have really casual, and I don't think that's appropriate. I'd like to impress the people that are gonna be there."

Kieran nods, thinking for a minute. The grin that lights up Kieran's face has Martin's head racing with thoughts of what the Scotsman might be up to. 

"I know just the place, mate. Bring your credit cards cause it's gonna be expensive!"

**********

"Babe! What did I tell you?! Don't get involved with him- and you just straight up went against everything I said!"

"I know I did Jen!" Your pacing is nearly wearing holes in the circular orange carpet in the center of her room. You've walked the perimeter of your self-imposed prison cell at least a dozen times in the past ten minutes whilst enduring a well-deserved lecture from your friend. "Look, why can't I be friends with him? There's no rule against that in the ethics handbook is there? I'm just fostering positive relationships between myself and the parents of my students!"

"Oh, that reads like a textbook. Babes, you know why you can't do that. You'll catch feelings! Hell, you caught feelings for that writer at the Starbucks down the street for your flat and you never spoke a single word to him. You think you can be friends with Martin 'I'm the best looking single dad ever' Ødegaard and not feel a thing?"

Was it a foolish decision to invite Martin to your birthday gathering? Obviously. It isn't your fault that he's too damn charming and irresistible. You hadn't expected Jen to be over the moon with your idea, but you had crossed your fingers in hopes of her supporting you. 

"Okay, maybe I made a mistake-"

"You think?!"

"-but realistically what's the worst that could happen? Technically Attie isn't my student, so there's nothing that says Mar and I can't be involved."

Jen rakes a hand through her hair, her blue highlighter leaving a streak behind. "I mean technically you'd be fine, but if the other parents found out, who knows what they'd do? The entire school is filled with Mum's constantly lusting over that man- all it takes is one of them getting a touch too jealous and spreading some terrible rumor for things to go ass over tits."

You hate it when Jen is right. The fantasy you cooked up in your head is much more favorable than the reality she's just whacked you upside the head with. You deflate, finally ceasing your feet long enough to sit cross legged on the carpet. 

"Look Jen, I don't even think he's interested in me like that anyway. He's got this trauma, I can see it in his eyes- he just feels… broken hearted. I think he needs a friend to lean on, someone outside of Arsenal. Like a new perspective, you know? Maybe I can be that for him."

At this point, you're grasping at straws to invent a reason why this is a semi-acceptable idea. In truth you're being selfish, wanting to see if you can sus out how Martin feels beneath that steely armor he wears. You can chalk it up to your teachers instincts; seeing people struggling silently isn't something you can sit by and tolerate without trying to help. You don't have it in you to watch Martin continue to come in and paint on a happy face for his daughter when you've noticed flashes of something much more troubled beneath the surface. 

"For the record, I hate this idea." 

"I know you do, Jen. But you going along with it is exactly why I love you." You hold up one finger, pleading with your eyes for her to hear you out. "One outing, that's all I ask. You'll be there the entire time to keep me in check, totally supervised and everything."

Jen shakes her head, taking her time in answering to ensure her discontent is well noted. "I'm only doing this because I love you. One outing- and I'm not letting you drink until he's gone. You get all touchy when you have tequila and I know that's what you'll wind up having."

You break into a cheek-splitting grin that is impossible to hide even if you wanted to, "that's a deal. Have I told you I love you?"

"Not nearly as often as you should, considering how much I risk for you on a daily basis. Now go home and pick out an outfit, let me grade in peace."

"Trust me, I've got just the thing in mind."

[zuntoshere]

FITMC - ＴＨＥ ＣＯＮＴＲＡＣＴ (predictions)

Our big lore stream in one and a half hours (it's 20 mins as i'm posting), so I want to make a few predictions as to what might happen ( for funsis). But first - pointers!

Yesterday was the day 280 of the QSMP project, which is 40 weeks. My man loves counting days on stream, so we're going to note it as well.

"Remember, chat, I'm on this island for a very specific mission."

"Everyone is on this island for a specific reason."

MADAGIO being an anagram to "I AM A GOD", and the minecraft account name for qFit's contractor (fully white skin entity).

The player data that qFit seems to be searching for not only contains classic game-stats (mobs killed, blocks placed), but specific stuff ("breaths_taken", "times_impisoned"). ((stream from aug. 11 2023))

So, the stuff that we might learn from today's stream (tame predictions) :

Implications of knowing all player's data. (( Imagine there would be staff, like, relationship status with different people and that's what he is dreading to give to his employer, that could just kill him and his loved once ))

Who's Madagio in relation to the Fed's

More about 2b2t lore !

New contact via satellite (Ramon was doing stuff past few days out of Tubbo's pov) .

Cat's stuff explained (the contractor is a cat person, lol).

SOME BATSHIT PREDICTIONS:

My man loses all memories and has 40 more weeks to collect the data. (he said we're going to suffer with fitpac, i believe he would do it)

Full island reset- the timing is too good, couldn't not add.

The Eggs are hard-drivers for data or Data-collection units (that's why fed's needed to steal and crack them few times)

(for the sake of my sanity, i'll just post this. I'm sitting on this list for too long, and all of it was eating my brain for the past 24 hours. any spelling is unintentional and i don't want to change the post so it would be authentic if i were to be right about some stuff. Prayge nothing is going to happen to Ramon, other stuff is manageable)

[incrediblygrassy]

Samtember Day 2:Bird telepathy

"Come on. What does it even do?"

I am getting pretty sick of people who aren't Torres testing out their tech with me. Who is calling the shots here? Who ran the background checks? Who's stuff is it, and who's asking for it? That's what I always didn't like about the military: everything is on a need to know basis, and I never need to know, apparently.

"It lets you communicate with the birds."

Bucky from across the room cracked up laughing with no intent of stopping anytime soon. Yeah, I sure as hell didn't ask. The poor intern smiling at me like that was actually helpful doesn't deserve my oncoming long chat, though.

"Thank you, tell whoever sent you that they should expect a very in-depth report from me on how it works."

"Ok."

They still stood there all wide-eyed and practically vibrating with the urge to do something, most likely embarrassing. 

I sighed before resetting, "Do you want a picture?"

"Yes! Thank you. Thank you. I love you so much! Yay! Thank you!"

Ah, the whole hero thing is possibly worse than a movie star. At least a movie star has a security detail. Heroes are expected to be able to protect themselves. The guy ran off looking so happy that it almost made up for it, though.

"Ah, is Captain America not a fan of children?"

"Hey, I love kids."

"What was that about anyways? I get useless upgrades all the time."

"Birds are girls in British speech."

"Oh, ha ha. Like I needed help. I mean, I am positively charming."

"Sure,  whatever lets you sleep at night."

I knocked the ex-assassin in the ribs for good measure, and we took off towards the plane to our next mission we were probably over-qualified to help out some country who didn't want us and could handle themselves.

I was glad for them, though. It beats avoiding the press and politicians. I'd rather punch some bad guy than have to withstand a conversation with someone trying to exploit my image. I worked too hard to make it an image people can look to for the courage to have it twisted to help some political agenda. Plus, it's a whole four days in some beautiful country with the only slightly unnerving staring of the Winter Soldier.

"Dude, I thought we were past this."

"Naw."

This guy exudes peak little sibling energy. Which is ironic because he was the oldest. If I point out I don't like something, like snow or his staring, then he will specifically make sure that we're on a plane to Latvia in January where he intends to stare across at me for the entire trip just to screw with me.

I looked down at the tiny piece of tech added to the goggles of my suit to distract myself. I didn't know how I felt about some government brainiacs stealing my Wakandan gear from the dry cleaners. Seems a little illegal to me. If it happens again, maybe I'll have Bucky ask Shuri to chew them out. It's her brains they're sponging off of after all.

Plucking up an iPad from the floor as it slid past during the take-off, I started breaking down the basics of how it worked. I wanted to make sure it wasn't gonna be an open mic to all the helicopters around. What was the point even? I already have a radio to tap into all the friendly and sometimes not-friendly channels. If I wanted to talk to the birds, all I have to do is call them.

By the time I determined that the whole thing was safe even if I had no clue how it worked, Bucky was concked out in a very undignified manner I just had to snap a picture of. With a little over three hours until we landed, I figured it was safe to follow suit. 

"Mornin' sleeping beauty."

"Ah, shove it, Barnes."

The insistent poking didn't stop.

"Alright, alright, I'm up."

The guy was down the stairs before I could even right myself. Or at least that's what I thought happened. He was gone gone. The guy is immune to sleep-induced slowness, I swear.

It's time to get debriefed. Bucky had better not decide midway that he couldn't handle the accented English and ask them to just give it in their native tongue again. He can understand it just fine, sure, but I'm left in the dark. Bucky has a very different idea of what essential information is.

I like knowing all the information. Too many times, we've walked into things unprepared, and it's ended with blood. The other side of being a celebrity nobody talks about is how many people hate you. Between myself and the Winter Soldier, we've checked just about every box for people's reasons to kill us in every country. 

I actually feel safer in a different country than back in the States. Normally, the armed forces we are called in to help are just as surprised and irritated about us being there as the bad guys who were expecting them, not us. They don't account for our gear and skill sets. We walk away with a lot less bruises that way. If my sniper of a partner would quit insisting on doing everything hand-to-hand, it would be a lot less bruises. The scathing looks we got for our infringement on situations that the country had "under control" on the other hand. . . made up for the lack of colors on our skin.

That's the thing. Even if you expect the looks, the words, the hits, it never makes them hurt less. It just makes you tense up, and contracted muscles can't take as much damage. Not many are mad enough or drunk enough to take a swing of any sort at us, though. They don't have to say a thing, though. We see what they think of our presence. 

Of course, nobody seems to like my presence no matter where I go or what I'm doing. That's why I'm doing what I want to do with the people I love to do it with. People don't like me, but I love people. If they're gonna make life tough, I'm gonna work to make it easier.

Bucky was at the bottom of the stairs, against which he leaned reading a book with one hand. He glanced up and flipped it closed and into some hidden pocket when I reached the bottom step.

"Ah, look who's finally up."

"Don't look so comfortable. You ready to go?"

"Ready when you are."

I started walking before continuing, "Don't be so indecisive."

"It's called being considerate."

"It's called being a pain."

"If you find pain from my kindness, I'll just have to be more rude."

"Oh, that'll be a sight to see. I didn't notice you were being kind."

"Wow, I'm glad they don't need you for your bird's eye view, for you are oblivious."

"Oblivious?"

"Oblivious."

I let him have it as we approached the base. No use appearing divided in front of people who don't even understand what we're arguing about. 

"Wow, look what the cat dragged in."

"Ho, ho. Get a look at these songbirds."

"Hey, peacock. Ain't it time for you to head back south?"

"Yeah, we don't want you're eye sore around here."

The whispers weren't really whispering this time. They were pretty loud, almost as if they were coming through the suit's headset. I wasn't half as colorful as Steve, though, so they're just making fun out of principle. America isn't even south, though, guys. 

So the crowd's more brash than usual. This is looking out to be a great start.

The higher-ups finally got done begrudgingly debriefing us. The only thing brightening their sour looks was Bucky's Latvian inquiries. He wasn't even listening to the answers he just wanted to give them the chance to not have to obey the rules of English grammar. 

It was simple. In and out. Terrorists, hostages, the works. Something a small team would probably be better for, but the politicians back in Washington need something good to blow in the public's face that we did for the baltic states to cover up some equivalently gross deed.

I only let it happen because at least those good soldier's lives aren't at stake. I can't count the number of times we've walked into "easy" situations that turn out to have hydra or alien weaponry that blows the whole ordeal into another category. 

It gets ugly fast.

"Ugg, they're back."

Well, good to see you too. Oh, don't give me that confused look.

"So, how do you feel about being stuck in a nest?" I asked Bucky once we cleared the compound.

"He speaks of nests. Poser."

What is that even supposed to mean?

Bucky answered as if the lingering voice wasn't there, "Eh, makes me feel like a glorified cop."

"Don't all these do that?"

"Yeah."

"Then we'll be fine and back in the States in time for the Sunday football game."

He shot me a look that said, "Now that's more my speed."

Then, a truck pulled up to whisk Bucky away to his sniper spot. I was left to be my own ride. Good thing I have a GPS in this thing because I don't remember how to get there at all.

Unfortunately, I was bombarded, not 20 seconds in, "Hey, bozo, watch where you're flying!"

"Abort abort! Bank left. Bank Left! *Donald Duck Noises* Who gave that idiot a license."

It doesn't make sense. With all the air rushing past, the only thing I can hear are the coms. Nobody is that snarky on the comms, usually upon seeing me. 

"Hey, this is bird altitude, buck-o. Go a few hundred meters up if you want in the skies."

Bird altitude? Really? I'm sure there's some other environmentalist plan that doesn't inhibit my ability to get a job done that can be focused on for the 16 hours I plan to be in this country. I do not need a ticket for violating air space rules.

"Ah, Piper, isn't this a nice-- ahh!"

Where is the mute button on this thing? This idle chatter is driving me nuts.

"Yeah, us too buck-o."

What?

Oh, birds.

"No, really? What you thought we were chickens?"

There's a roof, I'm finding an off switch. This is gonna get me killed.

"Yeah, because if we have to hear you think, we're gonna do it ourselves."

Understood.

I'm issuing a formal complaint when I get back. I might enjoy writing this report.

Bucky's never gonna believe this one.

"SHUT UP!"

No bird telepathy today, that's for sure.

[sugar-omi]

omggg that made me think of something else that kinda gets me with these sorts of timeline reset things, i dont wanna ramble too much but theres this fangame i played for jojo that kinda has that sort of thing going on and it made me think of it aaaa (also i need to read those webtoons now im really interested sdflkjdsfklj)

so like while i was also imagining that cove wasnt really able to remember much about the previous timeline after the reset, i thought well, what if there was something left behind from it and cove didnt know or understand what it was until after meeting the og mc in the new timeline like after the whole wedding thing

like maybe in the og timeline cove and mc had made friendship bracelets or something when they were little and had a matching set (or maybe its the matching friendship shells you can have with cove if you decide to hang out on the beach with him instead of surfing in step 2 aaaa) in the new timeline cove wakes up with that in his hand the morning before him and his dad are taking the drive to sunset bird. he doesnt know what it is and is confused by it, maybe he just shoves it in his pocket or it ends up in a box and he just eventually forgets about it

he doesnt remember the bracelet/the shells in the blurry dreams he had about the original mc or anything and he only remembers it when he sees the matching one that mc has like on their desk or just resting on a table or maybe even theyre wearing it if its the bracelet and it just makes things click even more and the feelings just like hit him like a truck

aaaaaa asdklfja we are getting too powerful and i hope that my rambling makes sense, if it doesnt i will try again but aaaaaa my brain worms are increasing so much - 🕑

NO IT MAKES SM SENSE

im the jumbled one i only got like 3-4 hours sleep but im like losing my shit n wanting to create art n write things n yeah dw you make sm sense omg omg omg

I LOVEEE THE BRACELET/SHELL THING TOO!!! and he and mc!1 don't have those kinds of the things at all. or at least a variant of some sort

i imagine mc 1 and 2 are polar opposites. whereas mc!1 is more selfish/is the leader (think like ol2 mechanics n how they have the relationship status system/whatever yk?), mc!2 can still be a leader ofc, but theyre more selfless or at least always reaching out for cove

mc!1 is always searching for something else, somewhere else, someone else.

whereas mc!2 always turns around and waits for cove, goes to cove, brings cove with them. they always make a place for cove, where usually cove would make himself a place with mc!1

okay i swear imma write it, im like in a bit of a funk rn lol but i was thinking mc!1 (who i will call jamie for the sake of it and mc!2 will just be mc), sees cove with MC while they're visiting his parents.

(also i think that if mom's take back jamie, cliff would go out of his way to visit you guys/him instead so that way cove won't hurt. i imagine he might even move bc it hurts him as well ANYWAY THATS OFF TRACK THO)

and they end up talking somehow, maybe ending up on poppy hill at the right time (as much as it hurts bc poppy hill+white poppies would be ruined for cove after this, i think it'd bring him closure n he could get over it)

and i really would like to tell you jamie has regret. i thought they did n i would've written it like so, with jamie having a bit of longing for cove since they see him shining so brightly now that things have happened like this

i would also say that they love baxter still out of obligation because they ruined their life for him, i would also say that they could end up divorcing bc jamie longs for cove/their life before, but to that i offer: baxter staying and ignoring their yearning because this is all he thinks he can ever have...

BUT NOW. WHAT I AM VERY SWAYED TO WRITE INSTEAD BC !!!!

jamie isn't guilty. they love baxter so much, the only shame and guilt they have is for involving cove because now their family is distant and jamie hates that.

not just because they miss their family, in fact i imagine jamie would even tell someone they're overreacting, that they need to get out of their business, etc.. but they regret it because they can't give baxter a happy family, and they see how baxter regrets it so and will even express it bc he didn't want you no/low contact with your family, especially your lovely parents and sister, like he is.

jamie has enough humility to admit that they wish they didn't hurt cove, because he's such a good guy and he deserves better. but now he's happy, so they have no regrets.

i think jamie being this selfish would Kill cove. bc how could they say that? whereas jamie being guilty would make him sad, but its basically entirely pity for jamie. because they went through all that and they still want more, they want something else after everything they did?

cove would be so upset bc he was just a placeholder until they got what they wanted every time, slipping off jamie's list of important/treasured people with every day that went by growing up...

n he'd go cry to MC, distraught by the cruelty, but glad he didn't marry jamie in the end and he doesn't go into a funk afterwards, he's moved on and the coldness from jamie just helps him move on from everything

[jinkicake]

Michael is hilarious if he thinks I would EVER choose him over any of my boys lmao like ngl might have to test drive👀 but just to know how much I don’t need him😇 however I am not above being a menace and I will lay All over him to get the brother jealous. He’s like younger brother by 5 seconds to Lucifer so my HC for him is that he’s very petty but will seem nice on the outside like imagine Lucifer energy but diavolo vibes. Like he seems like a strict Headass but he’s so anti Lucifer league energy on the inside 😂 like he can so clearly tell what’s going on. He def won’t stop me from getting too close to his face under the guise of “oh wow you have really pretty eyes!” Or “wow you have really nice hands” or my wandering hands trying to feel him up (god dresses those angels up like sluts it’s not MY FAULT😡). Doing that anime thing where it’s like oh I’m giving you a hug but his face is in my chest AGSHDHD. He enjoys watching the brothers trying to set him on fire with their minds and also it’s been a while since he’s had a human👀 ik when Lilith was down there other angels had to be too lmao Michael is like a worse version of Lucifer but he’s the boss now so he has to pretend to be a saint. Has some brat tamer in him with a voyeurism streak with a sprinkle of exhibitionist🥰 so he will ruin you in his cute little corner of heaven that the brothers know where he would be hiding. DEFINITELY wants Lucifer to hear you beg for his cock, definitely the “younger sibling didn’t get enough attention” energy. Probably has some freaky angel power where he knows what’s on your heart or something so he’s gunna secretly fulfill your every desire so your brain is absolutely broken by the end of it. Little less control than Lucifer and that’s saying a lot since you just have to give Lucifer the eyes and he’s hard asf already😭 so Michael is on the brink of having his cum gushing out of you by you screaming his name for more. Gets off on you begging for him to ruin you and eyes rolling to the back of your head. Accidentally forget humans have sensory systems for a REASON and will fuck up tour body for like 14 hours like Lucifer will make it hard to walk for a week Michael will have you shuddering like a ghost is touching your shoulder bc when you walk your body is reminded of being overstimulated for so long😭 mans wants to absolutely rewrite your body chemistry and honestly,,, I would let him🤭 bc when I go home w my demons and angels they’re going ti nurse me back to heath but be pissed the whole time; however they need you to be at full max health to absolutely destroy you permanently💀💀 maybe even diavolo will rip apart reality to make some kind of Bruno zipper universe where time isn’t real so ti feels like they’ve been fucking you for a full year but in the devil some it’s been 4 hours😂 and barbatos will also pull a giorno and reset your body until your begging to be free and unfortunately apologizing doesn’t help in the slightest 😔 they’re going to fuck you until you pass out and wake you up by fucking you again

Michael is a damn fool! He couldn't PAY me to pick his old ass over Luci or any of the other demons smhhh

also, isn't it canon that he acts 'childishly' like.... i could see how that is endearing i suppose! and if it were to make luci jealous then I would def toy w him!! #anythingforlucifer!! so you're so right LMAO fine i see the appeal, you got me!

i cant imagine how he would be in bed because like he's an angel-a high up one!!, i feel like he would be a PRUDE BUT then again when I think about my love simeon... HES NOT VANILLA so like what is the truth?! eek but the thought of doing shit up there in heaven teehee where all the other angels are... wait a min- maybe i was too harsh on michael!!!

it's just so hard to think straight with Luci possessing my every thought! sigh

i feel like biggest threat in the game literally is getting dicked down by the other characters... like we dont have to worry about getting taken out by another random demon but we DO have to worry about barbatos and his endurance!!!

... is- michael going to be in the new game?? is- is he?!

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3133

today i got up early and went to find the stained glass place a few towns over. we didn't find it. we did find a quilt shop, though, and the lady there was really nice.

we spent so long there that we went straight to walmart where i was scheduled to have my hair cut at noon. hair now shorter, it's much more comfortable.

we got mcnaldos for lunch and went home, where i went upstairs and chilled until my therapy appointment.

because of what happened yesterday, i was able to use that as my focal point for my appointment today. i don't like that when when i feel like i did yesterday that my instinct is to run away. yes, changing my environment is good, but i don't always have to go from wherever i am to my bedroom so i can nap and reset. instead we decided that i should try simply removing myself from the environment to something closer, like the parking lot or the café where i can get something to eat. having that time to separate and regroup instead of needing to reboot will help me when i get in a funk somewhere i shouldn't or can't leave, like when i don't have my car or when i'm at work. so i'm hopefully gonna be able to try that.

(after therapy i napped for a couple hours. that was nice)

i was kind of able to try my new coping skill earlier, when i couldn't make a decision for dinner because i couldn't think. brain going a thousand miles a second and nowhere to go and nothing to think about, just a rocket-powered hamster wheel, so i removed myself from my current environment. i went from the yonder into the kitchen to solve my problem. perfect timing too, because mom decided what she wanted so we made chicken salad.

we watched fringe for a while, and once mom went to bed i stayed on the sofa for a bit watching videos on my phone until dad got home. i refilled my water, had some chocolate milk and cocoa pebbles, and came upstairs.

i'm now ready to sleep, even though my shoulder hurts a lot right now in the front. i gotta call PT.

also i'm talking to joel a little bit! he makes me happy and i miss him a lot. i hope to see him soon.

[coralinehecc]

Corals Monthly Update #1

Well due to Tumblrs lack of a word limit, this idea has been on my mind ever since I started using this website properly. Basically, I wanna do these somewhat frequently and basically talk about what I got up to over the past month and possibly spill into the last month if need be. Starting from today imma try do these every day on the 20th or 21st because why not! So lets start off with this month, November! This month started off pretty nicely, as I had Halloween break spill over into November because mid term exams were early this year apparently. I however had plans! Instead of sitting around myself, Sully, had arranged to meet up with Wolf and spend a few days at his house in the back ass of nowhere. Despite Wolfs internet being almost as bad as his siblings tempers, it was super fun! He has a lot of stray cats that come around and hang about the farm which they look after and they’re so adorable!! My favourite was Oreo since she was so goofy >:] 

(Wolf also had 2 dogs, one tiny one and a MASSIVE fluffy guy who was super excited to see us! Sometimes a bit too excited lmao) However, because of that I actually didn’t get much pictures while I was up there because cats distract me. Poor Sully was slightly allergic to cats sadly and was taking no chances so we couldn’t let them in for long and if we did it had to be far away from him. Cats aside, we also visited a small town near where Wolf lives and it was like an expanded version of where I grew up. Even had a huge ass forest which made me super jealous cuz I would’ve KILLED to grow up with smth like that!! We met up with Wolfs super chill friend Pierce (hope i spelt that right) and had a good time walking around and seeing what this little place had to offer. I also tried something called Vodka black which is like mostly blackcurrant mi waddi mixed with vodka and I loved it lol. Eventually we went back to Wolfs house and relaxed for the rest of the evening. OH ALSO! While at his house, Wolf let me borrow his 3DS so I could finally play Tomodatchi Life again, though I quickly reset the island as it had so many islanders that were either out of date, unfunny memes or people I REALLLY do not like anymore. So I started a new island! Here’s mostly everyone on it as of right now! >:]

(Wolf, Sully and Saul Goodman are also here but I didn’t snap any photos lol) I hope to get a New 3DS soon because my first one died and the 2DS Sully let me have has a broken cart reader :[ Anyhow! On the last day we went into a bigger town that was an hour drive away. There was also a CeX there which had fucking SA2 stocked and nearly made me jump with the shock lmfao. I of course instantly bought that but also picked up Splatoon 2 since I wanted to give it a try (and i still need to play it oops.) There was also a discount store we passed that Wolf commented on, apparently saying it was shit. However after going inside it literally had everything I needed for a Red Guy cosplay I want to work on at some point! After our quick and simple trip around the town, we piled back into the car and were driven back to Dublin to catch the train home. Despite us only being there for a few days it was great fun! I always have a blast meeting up with Wolf and this time was no exception :D Other than that extravaganza, I haven’t actually been up to much IRL stuff. School is just school so nothing ever interesting happens, and I don’t do much at home either. Only thing I can say is that Carey in the House: Take 2 is almost done! I wanna say it’s currently 60 or maybe 75% done? I’ve been trying to push out the last chunk of animation but due to winter making silly caveman brain think it hibernation time, my productivity has slammed through the floor. My plan is to get it out before Christmas however! This is so I can spend all my time on hanging out with family and friends, since both Vi and Softy are coming over for New Years!! My current weakness though is backgrounds, rendering the base in blender saves a LOT of work but I’ll need to look into shaders to speed things like colour and line art up because it takes FOREVER. Here’s a comparison between backgrounds for example! Left is base render, right is the finished piece done in Clip Studio.

(the bottom one is a better example as it has a lot more smaller details)  If need be I’ll probably ask a few friends to help out with smaller things but until then I’m (mostly) working solo. So WISH ME LUCK!! EDIT: HOW COULD I FORGET!! I ALSO DYED MY HAIR PURPLE!! However before that I had to bleach it and due to missing a certain product that was vital and SOLD SEPERATELY I had to go into school on Monday looking like I just stole all 7 chaos emeralds. 

Thankfully I got it all sorted and now I look AWESOME!! (sorry for bad camera quality! New phone has a shit camera)

For now however, that’s basically all I got up to this month. There’s probably something I forgot or didn’t mention because it was short (like twf reddit stuff) but that’s basically everything for the most part! I’m going to be doing a trivia stream with Waltenews on the 26th tho so I’ll talk about it more next time! Go check it out at “twitch.tv/Waltenews” or I will find you!! Thank you all so much for reading and I hope to do more of these :D