#back to rolling the boulder up the hill

[allbeendonebefore]

trying to write dialogue for bert is like herding cats he keeps dragging this comic out and im just trying to pry him off his scratching post it’s not sustainable UGH!!

[the-lizard-lord]

Me, writing chapter 15 of zombie: I have written up a pretty good build up to the fight with Kuro! Yay me!

Me, writing chapter 16 of zombie: fuck's sake, now I have to write the goddamn fight scene.

[jackgarlond]

hmmm I do not see how I'm going to be able to make it to 26

[milimeters-morales]

‼️ NO LONGER SUICIDAL 💪🏾💪🏾💪🏾 GOTTA KEEP LIVING FOR ALL THE NATIVE, AFRICAN, PALESTINIAN, JEWISH, QUEER, DISABLED AND SEVERAL OTHER PEOPLE THAT HAD THE CHOICE TAKEN AWAY FROM THEM 💯💯

[monstrumpuella]

The King and Death

[under-the-red-willow]

Hello, looks your latest dream art has coded art text again that based on the cipher you decoded translates to "sisphus" (maybe a Sisyphus allusion/reference?)

haha, that fits. Feels like trying to figure this all out is a Sisyphus task, thank you.

[megumi-fm]

.

[gayvampyr]

how do i say “yknow im sure there are alternatives and other ways to get help and succeed, but i just do not have the energy anymore to keep up with the sisyphean task of fighting for accommodations no one thinks i need or deserve” without sounding like im just lazy and giving up because i don’t care

[trespasssweetlyurged]

you can always tell whether a batman writer thinks he’s driven by anger and vengeance or driven by love and hope and my favorite writers are the ones that know he’s angry and vengeful because he loves his city so much and has so much hope for the future

[skyistheground]

beneath the brine - the family crest

honestly this art was kinda experimental for me! in both art and inspiration. kind of made a brain blast about a possible interpretation of the story of isat (below) and i will take ANY excuse to draw mal du pays

ANALYSIS BELOW

siffrin. sounds similar to suffer. or sisyphus

the image of siffrin in the first panel is directly referenced off an old painting of sisyphus. for those who don't know, he is the ancient greek king who cheated death and, as punishment, was forced to roll a boulder up a hill. but whenever he got to the top, the boulder would roll all the way back down and sisyphus would have to start again

sounds familiar, doesn't it? unsure if that was the intention but considering siffrin's love of plays and tragedy, stories, and their whole situation, i think it is an interesting reading of isat

and the king is a rock. he is literally a boulder. he is the climax of the loop's story, the top of the mountain, where after, siffrin falls all the way back down to dormant

as for the rest of this art. i have intentions but i would like to see if anyone else comes up with anything :)

and the full version:

[semperama]

#38 Buddie 😊😊😊

I got multiple requests for this one! Hope you enjoy! <3

"I like your laugh."

----

Eddie leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, filtering out everything but the sound of Buck’s voice in the next room.

“They said you had a weird laugh?” Buck is saying. Eddie is just out of sight in the hallway, the door cracked open so he can hear. “You don’t have a weird laugh, bud. I love your laugh.” A pause, a snort from Chris. “I mean it. It reminds me of your dad’s.”

“Dad almost never laughs,” Christopher says. Eddie’s heart seizes in his chest.

“Nuh-uh. I told an excellent bee pun at work earlier, and he was practically rolling on the floor.” The bed springs creak, and Eddie imagines Buck jostling Chris’s shoulder, ruffling his hair. “Also he loves to make you laugh.”

The first part might be an exaggeration, but the second part is true. Eddie remembers those early days after Shannon left, where every day felt like pushing a boulder up a hill. Being a father never came naturally to him, but when he made a funny face or a silly joke and Christopher threw his head back and giggled, it was like all the turmoil inside him went quiet for a while. It made him feel like less of a fuck-up.

“How do I stop the other guys from making fun of me though?” Chris asks.

Buck blows out a long breath. “You probably can’t,” he says, “and I know that sucks, but unfortunately kids are mean. Teenagers especially.” Eddie bites his lip, listening intently. “It just would suck more if you let a bunch of jerks keep you from being happy, right? If anything, you should laugh more. And louder. Really piss them off.” Buck lowers his voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t tell your dad I said that last part.”

And Chris does laugh, now. Eddie does too, his shoulders shaking silently. He has no idea what he did to deserve Buck, but he’s thankful for it every damn day.

“Now. Homework?” Buck asks.

“Finished,” Chris answers.

“Hmm, I’ll let Dad verify that one.” Eddie’s stomach flips at that, Buck calling him “Dad” like they’re—like they— “Love you, kid,” Buck says, and Eddie barely has time to pull himself together before Buck is there, stepping out into the hall with a satisfied grin on his face.

Eddie puts a finger to his lips and tilts his head toward the kitchen, and Buck rolls his eyes but follows after him. It takes that long for Eddie to breath through the wobbly feeling in his chest anyway, to be able to speak without his voice coming out rough with emotion.

“Thanks, man,” he says. “I don’t know why he wouldn’t talk to me.”

The wounds from the summer are still fresh—Chris’s firmly shut door, the way he wouldn’t even look at Eddie before he left, the weeks of radio silence. Some days, Eddie’s not sure if things will ever go back to normal, if Christopher will ever really trust him again. It seems like they’re healing, but then there are days like today, where it’s one step forward, two steps back.

“I think he’s just at that age where it’s really uncool to open up to your parents about anything,” Buck says with a shrug. “I’m like, the older friend or fun uncle or whatever. Less threatening.”

Buck shoots him a tight smile and starts to move past him toward the fridge, but Eddie gets a hand around his bicep, stopping him. “That’s not what you are, Buck,” he says. His breath catches in his throat, and he has to swallow hard to clear it. “You know that, right?”

Judging by the way he looks down at the floor, he doesn’t know it. And that’s just—that’s not acceptable. Eddie has been trying to tell him for years. After the tsunami. After the shooting. And all these little moments too—family dinners and outings and Buck always, always being the first one either of them calls when something goes wrong. He’s not just their friend—his and Chris's. He’s their rock.

“Eddie,” Buck says, but Eddie hooks a thumb under his chin, makes him look up again.

“That’s not what you are,” he says, then presses his mouth to Buck’s before he can argue.

It’s the most terrifying moment of Eddie’s life for about three seconds, Bucks’s sharp intake of breath and tense shoulders, Buck grip tight on his waist. But then, just as Eddie’s about to jerk away and apologize, Buck sinks into it, softening, arm curling around Eddie’s shoulders to pull him closer.

Eddie makes an embarrassing sound, relief and desire and gratitude all rolled up into one. Buck’s soft mouth and strong arms, his comforting presence in this house and in their lives, his infinite capacity to care for others—it’s more than Eddie thought he’d ever get to have for himself, but he knew he wouldn’t find it anywhere else either. To have it now, pouring into his outstretched hands—he almost stops breathing. He’s so happy, so fucking in love with him.

“Gross,” says a voice from behind Buck, and they jump apart, startled, wheeling around to see Chris grinning at them from the doorway. “Get a room.”

“Uh,” Buck says eloquently.

“Christopher,” Eddie says, not much better. His mouth is tingling and he wants to lift his hand to it, touch it to make sure this is all really happening.

“Can we get pizza tonight?” Chris asks, and it’s a blatant ploy to take advantage of the situation—they had pizza two nights ago, and Eddie tries to care a little more about his nutrition than that—but Eddie looks at Buck, and Buck shrugs, and Eddie shrugs back, and they say, “Sure,” in unison.

“Great,” Chris says, and then disappears again.

Eddie stands stunned for a long moment, but when he looks at Buck again, Buck is laughing, his body quaking silently, his hand half-covering his face. I love your laugh too, Eddie thinks. Buck collapses back against the fridge like he needs it to hold him up, and Eddie moves into his space again, hand settling on his hip, grin creeping across his mouth.

“Still think you’re the fun uncle?” he asks, and Buck looks up at the ceiling and groans, “Oh my God.”

Eddie kisses his jaw, his cheek, cranes his neck to brush his lips over Buck’s birthmark. “I was going to ask you to stay for dinner anyway,” he says, cradling Buck’s face in his palm and sweeping his thumb across his cheekbone. “But now I think you should just stay forever.”

“Oh yeah?” Buck asks with obvious delight.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and kisses him again. This, here, is where Buck belongs.

[taelophone]

Fresh Linen૮ ․ ․ ྀིა₊⊹

Joost Klein x Reader! TWs: RPF, the softest romance ever!! I made Joost after lucky blue lol W/C: 3,604! A/N: Reader is implied to be something other than white, but its not major. + Some music I found that really matches the vibe methinks!! <3

When Joost first garnered fame, he could never imagine slowing down anytime soon. He was like a rolling boulder ; starting off slow and inexperienced with his rough, jagged edges. But now he’s been rolling for years, refining himself into a smooth stone down the hill.

He said all his life that he had a pretty good idea of things he liked and didn’t like. Kids, cats, feet, all of those icky things.

But here he was, slouched in an ivory arm chair as he brushed his daughter, Adessa’s hair. His life had managed to compress itself down into a tiny, squirming little baby and rest itself on his knees.

You smiled to yourself, lying down on the couch opposite of Joost as you watched him experience pure unbridled adoration. “You’re gonna look sooooooo pretty, Dessie!” He cooed, gently working the bristles of the brush through the long, chocolate brown curls.

He took his time, gently working his fingers through the soft hair before using two blue rubber bands to tie it into two sleek twin pigtails. He fluffed her hair out a little, smiling eagerly as Adessa giggled, clearly excited to see how her hair turned out. 

You loved seeing Joost dote on your baby girl. When you first started dating, he was very firm about not wanting any type of children. But Adessa managed to have him wrapped around her little finger.

“Daddy, why do I have to brush my hair?” Adessa asked, squirming around slightly as Joost struggled to tie the little lace bows around each pigtail.

“So it won’t get all tangled and messy.” He hummed, gently tying the last bow.

You smiled, watching as Adessa began to ramble Joost’s ears off with her little voice. Joost seemed to cling to every single word, leaning forward in his chair and placing his hands on his knees as he nodded. “Ja, natuurlijk.”

“I’m gonna make some bread, do you two wanna help?” You offered, standing up from the couch. “We haveeee...4 hours before we head to the park, so that’s enough time to make a loaf and lunch.” You smiled.

“Yes, I can help!” Joost smiled, standing up slowly from the arm chair as to not knock Adessa off of his knees. “Des, wil je brood maken?” Joost asked, scooping Adessa up from under her shoulders and tossing her up in the air.

Adessa shrieked and giggled, eagerly lifting her arms up as she nodded. “Ja! I wanna help mommy!” She beamed.

You smiled, making your way into the cozy little kitchen, Joost following behind you with Adessa in his arms. You got everything you’d need to make your bread and laid it out on the counter in front of the window.

Joost sat Adessa down on the kitchen counter, leaning against it as well as he watched you set everything up to make sure it would take as little time as possible. 

“I’m…not a good cook.” He chuckled, grabbing the measuring cups and spoons for you in a heartbeat.

“I know, Joost. That’s why I said help.” You giggled, setting the large bowl next to Adessa, who kicked her little legs back and forth off the counter.

“Alright, Dessa! I’m gonna let you pour the dry ingredients in the bowl and mix, okay?” You murmured, filling each measuring cup with its corresponding dry ingredients, and handing them to Adessa one by one.

You supervised her carefully, admiring her with a soft smile as she carefully added the flour, sugar, salt, and dry yeast to the bowl.

“Do I mix now?” She asked, staring up at you with her electric blue eyes. She was such a cute girl, with those beautiful pools of blue she had inherited from her dad. But of course, you could see yourself in her face as well.

“Yep! Daddy’s gonna help me add the water, and then we can all knead the dough together!” You explained, handing Joost the one cup, and half cup measuring cups.

“Could you fill these with warm water, my love?” You smiled, turning your head to face him.

He nodded, taking the cups from your hands and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Yes, baby.” He hummed, filling the cups with warm water and adding them to the bowl of dry ingredients.

“Alright, you two,” you began, stepping in front of Joost as you picked up the silicone scraping spatula, scraping the dry ingredients off the sides of the bowl. 

“There’s a certain way to mix bread. You don’t just go in an aggressive circle,” you showed, aggressively mixing the flour and water together. “Nah. You kind of like…fold it in. Stay from the bottom, and bring in to the top til’ it’s all combined.” You nodded.

“I wanna try!” Adessa gasped, immediately grinning ear to ear as she clasped her hands together in wonder.

“Of course you can!” You smiled, sliding the bowl over to her and handing her the spatula.

She did her best to mix, trying to copy the motions you showed her earlier as her brows furrowed in concentration.

You smiled, placing your hand over Joost’s as he leaned down, leaning his head on your shoulder and placed his hands on your hips.

“I love you.” He murmured, pecking the side of your head.

You smiled, leaning your head against his lovingly. “I love you too.” You hummed, holding his hand gently.

You chattered away with Joost and Adessa, finishing up with mixing the dough before dusting the counter with flour and tranferring the slightly sticky dough onto the powdered, sleek, and wooden surface.

“Alright, cover your hands in flour, and then you kinda just…knead it. Don’t be too hard, but don’t be scared of it.” You explained, kneading the dough gently.

You let Adessa try, letting her smack and poke the dough while she snickered and chuckled.

“Joost, roll up your sleeves and knead this for me please.” You requested, watching as Adessa hopped off the counter to go play her iPad. 

He nodded, reluctantly pulling himself away from you and rolling up the sleeves on his white collared shirt. “How do I do it again…” he snickered. “Show me.”

You sighed, smiling softly as you pushed him aside gently with your hip. “Like this,” you instructed, kneading the dough again.

He nodded, shifting behind you again and placing his hands over yours, kneading the dough with you as he hummed quietly to himself.

You kept going until the dough was smooth and matte, grabbing the little baking tin and slotting it into the pan and scoring a little heart into the surface.

“All done!” You smiled, holding up the pan to get a better look.

“You want any herbs on the top, baby?” You asked, craning your head upwards so you could look at him.

He brushed his hands off with the kitchen towel before placing them on the counter on either side of you. “Maybe some sage and rosemary.” He smiled, nodding subtly.

You nodded, slowly pulling away from him to find the sage and rosemary, plucking them from the fridge. You gently sprinkled the herbs on top of the bread before drizzling a little bit of olive oil on top and sprinkling a bit of black pepper as well.

“Put this in the oven for me?” You smiled, handing him the pan. 

He smiled, taking the pan from your hands and walking over to the already preheated oven. He swung open the oven door, wincing slightly at the gust of heat before gently sliding it onto the bottom of the rack.

“There you go, babe.” He smiled, his cheeks going a rosy pink from simply gazing in your direction. “I’ll go get Dessa dressed, and you can do whatever you want.” He smiled, whisking his way over to you, placing a kiss on your cheek and making his way to Adessa in the living room.

You smiled, feeling your sensitive little heart clench and vibrate at how he loved you so gently. Ever since you met Joost, he treated you like the most precious of gems. He wanted to make things easy for you; to dote on and pamper you like you were his most prized possession.

In Joost’s eyes, you and Adessa were his heart walking around outside of his body. When humans first thought of the word love, they described it as an attempt feeling of deep affection. But when Joost thought of love, he thought of laying down with you and Dess, listening to your soft snores as time passed you by second after second.

It was those painfully slow days that reminded him that love has no time limit. Even when he was long gone and miles underneath the earths crust, his spirit would make sure the sun kept shining and the earth kept spinning for his baby girl.

You used the time Joost gave you to prep a small breakfast and pack a little snack bag for Adessa, knowing she would ultimately be hungry after playing in the park. After you finished that task, you tugged your sleeves down on your sweater, fixing your  jeans and leaning against the counter to have a sparkling water.

Joost and Adessa emerged mere minutes later, with your daughter now in a blue and white gingham dress and frilly white socks and cute little Mary Jane’s.

“Mommy, look!” She beamed, running up to you eagerly to show off her outfit. She did a fast little spin, grinning from ear to ear as she gazed up at you for approval.

You gasped, making sure to set down your can before kneeling down to be eye level with her. “You look so pretty, Dessa!” You cooed, giving her a big hug and peppering her face with kisses.

She giggled uncontrollably, trying to push your face away and squirming away from your love attack. 

You sat her back down, giving her one last kiss before patting her head gently. “Daddy did a great job.” You nodded, looking over at Joost and smiling.

He nodded back at you, giving you a thumbs up and blowing you a brief kiss.

What a cute nerd.

You stood up, standing in the kitchen and watching as Joost walked over towards you.

“I made you guys a little charcuterie board.” You smiled, gently wrapping your arms around Joost’s neck as he held your waist and gazed into your eyes.

“Oh thank you, mijn liefste!” He smiled, turning his head briefly to munch on some blueberries. “You’re so sweet, I don’t deserve you.” He mumbled, resting his head on yours.

“Not true!” You fake-gasped. “You’re the best, too.”

“…we the best music..” he whispered, immediately giggling after. 

“Bye.” You giggled, moving to walk away from him, only for him to pull you back gently.

“No, dance with me.” He pouted, swaying with you slowly in the kitchen.

“You’re so corny!” You giggled, swaying with him as well.

“People are afraid to be corny, but I was born on the cob.” He recited, chuckling in your ear. You could really see where Adessa got her laugh from whenever Joost giggled. You recognized that ‘hehehe’ anywhere.

“Daddy?” A little voice asked, Adessa staring up at you with her big round eyes.

“Yes, little one?” He hummed, still swaying with you as he glanced at Adessa.

“Are you and mommy in loooove?” She asked, leaning forward and smiling at the two of you.

“Of course! I’d move planets for your mama.” He nodded.

You snickered, smiling just a little harder at his shameless admission.

“And I would for you, too.” Joost smiled.

Adessa nodded, clinging onto Joost’s leg as she giggled. She couldn’t understand slow dancing, but she wanted to be included in anything her parents did. So she danced along with the two of you, eagerly twirling around beside you.

You smiled, watching her with nothing but love. 

“Jojo?” You hummed, resting your hands on either side of his neck gently.

“Ja?” He smiled.

“You wanna watch a movie after we take Dess to the park?” You muttered, pecking his neck gently.

He smiled, stopping in the middle of the kitchen floor before walking you back into the counter and setting you down on top of the smooth wood. 

“Of course.” He smiled, resting his head on your shoulder.

You stayed together in the kitchen for an hour or two, chatting away with each other happily about anything and everything until the oven dinged, prompting Joost to remove the fresh loaf with your pink little oven mitts.

“The bread is finished!” He smiled, placing it on the table.

“Great! Thanks.” You cheered, hopping off the counter to stare at the loaf. You fought off both Adessa and Joost, desperately trying to explain that the bread needs to cool before you cut or eat it.

“Mommy it’s ok, the bread won’t know!” Adessa grinned, standing on her tip toes in an attempt to see above the counter. Joost scooped her up, setting her down on the counter beside him as he admired the fresh baked loaf as well.

“It looks very good! Good job.” He praised, giving Adessa an approving high five. She nodded firmly, crossing her arms at her job well done before suddenly gasping.

“Mommy helped, too! Say good job to mommy!” She squeaked, pointing a finger at you.

He giggled, turning over to you and smiling.

“Thank youuu, amazing beautiful great gorgeous fiancée!” He beamed. 

“You’re welcome!” You chirped, kissing his cheek. “Alright, we can head to the park while that cools.” You nodded, heading into the living room to slide on your shoes and grab your keys.

Adessa followed behind, smiling happily as she toddled behind you, grabbing onto your fingers as she followed you out the door.

“Kom op, papa!” She called, turning her head around to pout at Joost, who was tying his shoes.

“Yeah, hurry up grandpa!” You teased, putting your hand on your hip. “You’d really make a child wait to go play at the park?” You snickered, watching as Adessa mirrored your pose.

Joost looked up, raising an eyebrow at the two of you as the picture finally panned out. He saw just how alike you and Adessa were, and suddenly all the noise in his head stopped. He was happy where he was, and couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Hold on, I’m done I’m done!” He giggled, stumbling out the door behind the both of you and closing the door.

“You got some flour on your nose.” You chuckled. “Coke allegations pending.” You whispered, motioning to the upper bridge of his nose.

He laughed, quickly clearing the flour away from his face.

“I’m not Charli.” He giggled, following behind you and Adessa closely.

“Are you sure? You seem to be bumpin’ that…” you joked.

“Nee, nee nee nee! I’m not.” He giggled.

You walked in the warm sunlight towards the park, taking steady breaths of fresh air as you admired the beautiful scenery.

The Netherlands was a bit of a change from the atmosphere you grew up with, but more grass was definitely a plus.

When you made it to the park, Adessa had set off to go play with the other kids in the grass.

You smiled, wrapping an arm around Joost’s arm and walking with him through the grass. Since Friesland was really small in retrospect, you had no doubt people recognized him, but you were grateful nobody made the move to bother or approach you with your child.

“I never thought I’d be getting married soon…” Joost suddenly blurted, holding your hand gently.

“I know, this all feels so unreal to me.” You smiled.

“I used to just say I was ok with my bloodline stopping at me…and now look, I’m engaged with a daughter.” He giggled.

“Nobody knows where they’ll end up, and that’s ok.” You shrugged, allowing Joost to pull you down and sitting in the grass with him, just far enough to supervise Adessa.

He nodded, smiling softly as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

You stayed at the park for a good hour, running around with Adessa in the grass as she chased you with a magical leaf that would make you go “boom!”

“Alright, Dessa, let’s go home and have some lunch, okay?” You smiled, scooping her up and spinning her around. 

She nodded, wrapping her arms around your neck as she waved bye to her park friends.

The walk back was relatively quiet, and you could tell that Adessa had fallen asleep. You chuckled, gently shaking her awake so she could stay up long enough to eat, have a quick little bath and then go to sleep later.

“Here, I got her.” Joost murmured, gently taking her from your arms. You smiled, thanking him wordlessly as you reached the front door and pushed it open.

You sat your bag and keys down on the side table, slipping your shoes off by the door and heading into the kitchen. You made a quick little sandwich for Adessa with some smoked turkey, Swiss cheese, pickles, lettuce, tomato, and red onion. What a non-picky baby.

You headed into the living room, handing the sandwich to a very sleepy looking Adessa whose head kept drooping onto her dad’s shoulder. Joost chuckled, watching as she perked up momentarily to eat her food.

“I like your bread, mommy.” She murmured, finishing up her sandwich with a little smile.

“Thank you!” You smiled, patting her head softly. “Im glad you like it. I made it with lots of love, just for you!” You explained, booping her little nose. 

She smiled, leaving the crusts on her plate and placing it down on the coffee table. “All done.” She murmured, rubbing her eyes as she leaned on Joost’s shoulder again.

Joost sat up slowly, ensuring she wouldn’t fall over on the couch before picking her up. “Bed time!” He beamed, dancing and twirling up the stairs with Adessa.

“I got her, just go get comfy!” He smiled, turning back to you briefly before disappearing upstairs. 

You cheered quietly, quickly setting up downstairs for movie night. You laid out the blankets, snacks, and drinks before shuffling upstairs to your shared room to change into some pajamas.

You decided on a matching pair of pink fuzzy shorts and a pink fuzzy hoodie. You glanced in the mirror, smoothing out the hoodie delicately and making sure you looked ok, even thought you knew Joost wouldn’t care even if you didn’t, because in his words “it’s okay to not be okay.”

You smiled, giggling at yourself briefly before making your way to the bathroom to check on the two of them, only to see a tub overflowing with bubbles and an Adessa with a soapy Mohawk.

“What the actual hell, Joost.” You murmured, eyes widening at the height the bubbles had managed to somehow reach. Adessa was lost in the midst of it, blue eyes just barely visible through the forest of bubbles.

Joost smiled, instantly freezing in place before slowly turning to you.

“Hello!!” He waved, slowly putting down the bubble bath solution.

“How much of that did you use!” You half-chuckled, half-scoffed, watching as the blue coloring practically spilled over the floor.

“Mommy it’s okay, I’m the bubble princess!” Adessa giggled, raising her arms up through the hoard of suds.

You sighed, but smiled softly. The cleanup would eat you the fuck alive, sure, but at least she was happy.

“Of course, sweetie.” You giggled, heading back out the bathroom slowly. You retreated downstairs to the couch, taking in the warm, orange-y yellow lighting that consumed the room. It reminded you of fall, with the sweet spices and crisp days that brought you so much joy.

You waited for no more than 5 minutes on the couch before the little pitter patter of feet came down the stairs. 

“Mommy!” The little voice whispered from the top of the stairs. “You gotta come say goodnight to me!”

You chuckled, standing up from the couch and jogging over to her. “Of course I do! C’mon!” You whispered, heading upstairs to her all pink princess themed bedroom.

Even though she had sworn her allegiance to nothing but pink time and time again, she still had the cover art for her dad’s beloved albums up on the wall next to her bed, courtesy of her father.

She scurried into bed, giggling as Joost pecked her little forehead gently. He had to completely sit down to be close to her bed, which was almost comical to see, but you didn’t wanna laugh at how massive he was just yet.

“Alright, goodnight sweetie.” You whispered, gently tying a little scarf around her head so her hair wouldn’t look crazy in the morning. “I love you!” You cooed, peppering her face with kisses.

She giggled, leaning up to kiss your nose before laying back down and rubbing her eyes. “I love you too…” she murmured, trying her best to keep her eyes open as she watched you and Joost turn off the lights and slowly leave.

You closed the door behind you two, smiling at Joost before giggling and scurrying down the steps like eager children. You crashed onto the couch together, cuddling up as Joost snatched the remote off the armrest and turned on the TV.

“This parenting shit is easy. W’s in the chat.” He giggled, pulling you as close as he could.

“I don’t know about easy, but you’re definitely a great dad!” You smiled, resting your hand on his chest.

He rolled his eyes, snickering quietly as he kissed your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

©Taelophone<33

[keqism]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

⊹ feat. itoshi rin

⊹ premise. in which itoshi rin discovers that life is not like a romance novel.

⊹ cw. GN reader, rin & reader are aged up / 20+, miscommunication

When you get back from your Tuesday evening classes, Itoshi Rin has guilt written all over his face.

On a regular day, you would be greeted at the door by your boyfriend, trapped in his embrace while he presses his face into your neck like a black cat asking for attention. But today, Itoshi Rin is sitting on the ground in front of the couch, furiously avoiding your gaze.

"What are you hiding?" you ask suspiciously, watching his spine visibly stiffen at your question. Crouching down in front of him, you scan the area for answers, searching for anything out of place.

"Nothing," he grumbles, but the way he shifts away from you and picks at the loose thread on his sleeve says otherwise. 

"Rin," you chide, reaching up to tilt his face towards yours. Teal eyes meet your own, and you can practically see the discomfort swimming in his irises. "Did you kick a football into the window? Or did you fight with the old man next door again?" 

"Neither." His answer is curt. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

You stare at your boyfriend, chewing on your bottom lip and contemplating whether or not you should push him further. But Itoshi Rin has the tenacity of a boulder, and no matter how far you push him up a hill, he'll eventually come rolling back down to where you started.

Stubborn bastard. But he's your stubborn bastard.

"Alright," you sigh. And to Rin's relief, the incident is pushed aside.

Or so he thought.

Over the next few days, Itoshi Rin walks on eggshells around you. Whenever you enter the room, he's closing all the tabs on his laptop and slamming the screen shut with a red face. When you crawl into bed at night, he's sliding away from you until he's practically hanging off the edge, the broad plane of his back mocking you. Morning kisses are replaced by cold shoulders, dinner for two slowly becomes dinner for one. The distance between the two of you grows larger; from the top of the hill, you watch his form trudge back down the slope.

"Do you think he's cheating on me?" You glumly ask Bachira during your weekly convenience store visits. Picking at the tab on your empty beer can, you watch as he inhales a two-hundred yen onigiri in one bite. 

"Itoshi Rin? Cheating?" He snorts around a mouthful of rice before taking a sip of his beer. "I'm surprised he was able to pull you—I doubt he's cheating."

"So then what's his problem?" you frown. "He hasn't talked to me in days—he hasn't kissed me in a week. It's like we broke up without actually breaking up." You gasp, sitting up and slamming your hand onto the table. "He still loves me, right?"

A hand flicks the center of your forehead, a sharp pain shooting through your face. "Don't be stupid," Bachira clicks his tongue at you. "That boy is head over heels for you, seriously. I thought football was the only thing he could love, and then he met you. It's sickening."

You slump back into your seat, rubbing your forehead with one hand. "So then what do I do?"

Another onigiri is inhaled. "Just talk to him," he says.

And so after your Tuesday evening class, you corner Rin in the living room again. 

"Rin," you hiss, tossing your backpack onto the floor. He flinches. "Show me what you're hiding under the couch, right now." And Itoshi Rin—with his tenacity of a boulder—must have the IQ of one too, because he has the audacity to deny your claims. 

"I'm not hiding anything," he argues, but you've had enough of his bullshit. Desperate, you slam your backpack into his face and dive for the ground, fingers grazing against something solid. But before you can grab it, Rin is yanking you back by your ankle and pinning you to the ground.

Amidst your scuffle, you glare up at his stupidly beautiful face, struggling against his firm grip for a moment. But then you fall limp and sigh, observing his disheveled appearance and how he avoids your eyes. 

"Rin," you gently cup his face, and teal eyes flit to yours. "I'm not going to judge you, whatever it is. I promise." And as if to emphasize your words, you offer your pinky up to him, your hand hovering in between your bodies.

A moment passes, anxiety flickering through his face. But then he's silently hooking his finger around yours and helping you sit up, the tips of his ears reddening. You glance at your boyfriend once before reaching under the couch.

… Books?

Rin has his face hidden in his hands as you pull book after book out from under the couch. Classic romance stories, love poems, shoujo manga—one might think that your boyfriend stole an entire section of your local library. You study his figure for a moment, at a loss for words.

"Rin? Do you want to explain or…" you trail off, and at the sound of your voice, he burrows further into his arms, curling into himself.

His voice is muffled when he speaks. "I don't know how to love you," he confesses. And when he lifts his face, Itoshi Rin has guilt written all over his face. "I don't know what I'm doing and I feel like I'm the only one blindly navigating this relationship, so I was trying to learn," he blurts out.

You're at his side immediately, hands sliding across his back in an attempt to comfort him. "Rin," you sigh, "look at me." And he obliges, insecurity clouding his eyes. 

"I love you," the confession comes naturally. "And I know you love me too. You don't have to tell me every day, and it doesn't have to be like a romance movie. I love seeing your face when I get home from class. I love it when you share half of your ice cream with me even though you want to eat it all. And I love the fact that we can sit in silence together and feel comfortable. You don't have to change the way you love, Rin. Okay?"

At your words, Rin feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. And then he feels stupid for doubting you, for doubting that he would ever be deserving of your love. Embarrassment smothers him at the sight of your smile, your laughter ringing out as you press your lips against his.

"Stupid bastard," you mutter into the kiss, and he huffs out a laugh in response. "Did you really read Sailor Moon just for me?"

He groans. "Shut up, please."

Although Itoshi Rin may sometimes have the emotional capacity of a boulder, being in his arms feels like home. And even though you may have to chase after his love, you know his heart belongs to you—and yours, to him. 

In your opinion, that's better than any love story out there.

thank you for reading / comments and reblogs are appreciated !

[hunybody]

eddie diaz voice actually the boulder and hill is great for heart health. yeah i push it up every day and it rolls back down and i get it again and it’s great cardio. i’m thinking about maybe incorporating it into some sort of crossfit routine or maybe learning how to do some sort of trick with it? i don’t really juggle that’s more buck’s thing but i could give it a shot. yeah i love the boulder and hill actually it’s almost meditative when you really get into it. it’s so healthy to be in a routine you know?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All Things End 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss (death, miscarriage), and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Arvin Russell

Summary: Newly widowed, you take a job at the local grocer to make end’s meet.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your shoulder only gets worse. When you tell your supervisor about it, he’s unfazed as he sends you to restock the cans of tuna. Those are small, he suggests. No matter, the repetitive motion only tweaks the knot firmly lodged beneath your shoulder blade. 

When you finish your shift, you’re almost in tears. You still need to haul your own groceries home as you spend twenty minutes collecting the bare essentials. Even the light load feels like pushing a boulder up a hill as you leave through the front doors. 

You wince as you cross the lot, searching out the beaten up Volkswagen. You stop as you see the bumper sticker, heart dropping at the reminder. You remember that road trip and how you rolled your eyes at Ben when he slapped the sticker onto the car. You tried but it wouldn’t peel off. 

You stop and lean the bag against the hatch. Ugh, just the thought of driving makes your muscles roar. It’s not far. 

You lift the bag again and a pang ripples up your neck. You cry out and drop your armful, the can clunking heavily as the brown paper splits and sends your groceries scattering. You slap a hand on the car and reach to shakily rub your neck. 

You quiver out a gasp as you look down at the mess. You slide your hand down the metal and groan as you reach for the can of mixed beans. It’s scooped up before you can get your fingers around the dented tin. 

“You alright?” Arvin asks as he gathers up the smattering of groceries. 

“Yeah, I… tripped.” 

“You know,” he stands, hugging the loose goods, “I told you to take it easy.” 

You look at him in exasperation, he means well. Still, good advice isn't always practical. You have to work. You need the paycheck. 

“I know, thanks,” you reach for his armful. 

“Let me,” he insists as he steps closer, “pop the trunk.” 

You groan and turn to shove the key into the slot, pulling up the hatch halfway until it opens all the way. You drag the empty box from the corner for him to put the groceries in. He puts them into the cardboard as you lean on the bumper and cradle your shoulder. 

“You think you can drive like that?” He asks. 

“Really, I’m fine,” you insist through gritted teeth. 

“Is that true or just something you say?”  

“Look, I appreciate it but you don’t need to worry that much. Enjoy not having to while you can,” you say. 

“I see someone who needs help and I help,” he shrugs, “it’s what my ma taught me to do. If she was still around, I hope she’d be proud of that.” 

You wince and look away. It can’t be easy losing a parent young. You regret being so defensive and over what? Your bum shoulder? If she were alive, his mother might be around your age. Maybe that’s why he’s so concerned. 

“Thanks, Arvin, that’s considerate, I’m sure she would be,” you force a smile. “I can drive, I got another arm--” 

“Isn’t safe like that,” he shakes his head, “please, I can give ya a lift. I’ll walk back into town--” 

You open your mouth but stop yourself from repeating that mantra ‘it’s fine’. Your mouth slants and you tilt your head one way then the other. You sigh through your nose. You really just want to lay down with some ice. 

“You’re not going to let me go, are you?” You ask. 

He grins and shakes his head, hair flopping, “’fraid I can’t.” 

You nod and hold out the keys, “shifter sticks, make sure you give it a wiggle.” 

🌲

Arvin drives confidently up the country roads. Everyone knows where everyone lives around here, even as the roads wind into the thicker brush. He slows as he comes onto the gravel road that leads to your marital homestead. Each time you see the arch of branches that crest the clearing, you’re reminded of the day you moved in. With Ben. 

There’s not much else left of him there. The pieces you did keep of your happiest years are all hidden away. More sore reminders of the lost. Aside from the stubborn rose bush. The petals are just as bright and pink as when Ben put it in. Your first year anniversary gift; it would be almost twenty if he was here. 

Your shoulder tweaks and the pain stokes the tears behind your eyes. You wiggle your nose and shake off the grief. It’s just this damn knot. It’s got you all twisted up. 

Arvin stops gently, the axle grinding loudly with the worn brakes, and he turns the engine off. You unbuckle your belt as he frees the keys and does the same. He’s quick but most people are quicker than you right now. 

He comes around to open your door before you can. You thank him as you get out, your purse dropping off your lap. He bends to pick it up first 

“Get yourself inside,” he hands you the keys, “I’ll get your things.” 

“You really don’t--” 

“I can hear it in your voice, just like those whiny brakes. I’ll have a look at those too,” he insists. 

“Arvin,” you utter, awash with embarrassment. 

“That shoulder won’t get any better if you keep being stubborn,” he grips the top of the car door. 

“What would you know? You got some years before you gotta worry about all this?” You kid as you slump your injured shoulder and touch it daintily. 

“I know pain when I see it and I know you’ve had enough of that,” he says, “go on. Let me get my good deed done for the day.” 

You nod and can’t help the tug in your lips. Right. He sees an old lady in need. You’re under no illusions. You know your age, you know what you’ve lost, you know what other people think. They pity you. Somehow, you hoped he wouldn’t share that. 

You sniff and step past him. You make your way up the front steps with tunnel vision. You try not to see the empty flowerboxes or the broken bench. The things Benny would have taken care of. 

You let yourself in but aren’t fast enough to keep the screen door from clattering into your shoulder. You cry out and stumble, catching yourself against the bigger inner door. You drop the keys. You don’t even need them. No one in Hammer Ford locks their doors. 

“Woah, hey,” Arvin’s footfalls rush up onto the porch, “everything okay? What happened?” 

You cling to the door hand and shakily look back at him, “nothing,” your voice is brittle, “the door... hit me.” 

“Ah gee,” he frowns, “come on,” he urges you in with his hand on your lower back, “you needa just relax, miss.” 

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 1 EPISODE 12 || LALLYBROCH ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

Broch Tuarach means “the north-facing tower.”

From the side of the mountain above, the broch that gave the small estate its name was no more than another mound of rocks, much like those that lay at the foot of the hills we had been traveling through. We came down through a narrow, rocky gap between two crags, leading the horse between boulders. Then the going was easier, the land sloping more gently down through the fields and scattered cottages, until at last we struck a small winding road that led to the house. It was larger than I had expected; a handsome three-story manor of harled white stone, windows outlined in the natural grey stone, a high slate roof with multiple chimneys, and several smaller whitewashed buildings clustered about it, like chicks about a hen. The old stone broch, situated on a small rise to the rear of the house, rose sixty feet above the ground, cone-topped like a witch’s hat, girdled with three rows of tiny arrow-slits. As we drew near, there was a sudden terrible racket from the direction of the outbuildings, and Donas shied and reared. No horseman, I promptly fell off, landing ignominiously in the dusty road. With an eye for the relative importance of things, Jamie leapt for the plunging horse’s bridle, leaving me to fend for myself. The dogs were almost upon me, baying and growling, by the time I found my feet. To my panicked eyes, there seemed to be at least a dozen of them, all with teeth bared and wicked. There was a shout from Jamie. “Bran! Luke! Sheas!” The dogs skidded to a halt within a few feet of me, confused. They milled, growling uncertainly, until he spoke again. “Sheas, mo maise! Stand, ye wee heathen!” They did, and the largest dog’s tail began gradually to wag, once, and then twice, questioningly. “Claire. Come take the horse. He’ll not let them close, and it’s me they want. Walk slowly; they’ll no harm ye.” He spoke casually, not to alarm either horse or dogs further. I was not so sanguine, but edged carefully toward him. Donas jerked his head and rolled his eyes as I took the bridle, but I was in no mood to put up with tantrums, and I yanked the rein firmly down and grabbed the headstall.

The thick velvet lips writhed back from his teeth, but I jerked harder. I put my face close to the big glaring golden eye and glared back. “Don’t try it!” I warned, “or you’ll end up as dogsmeat, and I won’t lift a hand to save you!” Jamie meanwhile was slowly walking toward the dogs, one hand held out fistlike toward them. What had seemed a large pack was only four dogs: a small brownish rat-terrier, two ruffed and spotted shepherds, and a huge black and tan monster that could have stood in for the Hound of the Baskervilles with no questions asked. This slavering creature stretched out a neck thicker than my waist and sniffed gently at the proffered knuckles. A tail like a ship’s cable beat back and forth with increasing fervor. Then it flung back its enormous head, baying with joy, and leaped on its master, knocking him flat in the road.

“‘In which Odysseus returns from the Trojan War and is recognized by his faithful hound,’ ”

I remarked to Donas, who snorted briefly, giving his opinion either of Homer, or of the undignified display of emotion going on in the roadway. Jamie, laughing, was ruffling the fur and pulling the ears of the dogs, who were all trying to lick his face at once. Finally he beat them back sufficiently to rise, keeping his feet with difficulty against their ecstatic demonstrations. “Well, someone’s glad to see me, at any rate,” he said, grinning, as he patted the beast’s head. “That’s Luke—” he pointed to the terrier, “and Elphin and Mars. Brothers, they are, and bonny sheep-dogs. And this,” he laid an affectionate hand on the enormous black head, which slobbered in appreciation, “is Bran.” “I’ll take your word for it,” I said, cautiously extending a knuckle to be sniffed. “What is he?” “A staghound.” He scratched the pricked ears, quoting“Thus Fingal chose his hounds:Eye like sloe, ear like leaf,Chest like horse, hough like sickleAnd the tail joint far from the head.” “If those are the qualifications, then you’re right,” I said, inspecting Bran. “If his tail joint were any further from his head, you could ride him.” “I used to, when I was small—not Bran, I don’t mean, but his grandfather, Nairn.” He gave the hound a final pat and straightened, gazing toward the house. He took the restive Donas’s bridle and turned him downhill. “In which Odysseus returns to his home, disguised as a beggar,…” he quoted in Greek, having picked up my earlier remark. “And now,” he said, straightening his collar with some grimness, “I suppose it’s time to go and deal with Penelope and her suitors.” When we reached the double doors, the dogs panting at our heels, Jamie hesitated.

“Should we knock?” I asked, a bit nervous. He looked at me in astonishment. “It’s my home,” he said, and pushed the door open.

26THE LAIRD’S RETURN ~ OUTLANDER