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katelynnwrites · 4 months

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I'm Losing It (All I Get's Jealousy) | Laura Freigang

warnings: ~

word count: 1377

summary: your girlfriend, laura gets jealous at national camp

a/n: jealousy is not something i've written before because jealousy isn't an emotion i have much experience with but i got two requests (one, two) so this is my attempt to do so

‘Hey.’ You laugh as a certain blonde pulls you into her lap, when you walk past her in the locker room.

‘I missed you.’ She complains, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck and tightening her arms around you.

‘I’m right here schatz.’ You murmur, leaning back into her.

Laura presses a kiss onto your forehead, content for you to stay where you are.

Even when more of your teammates trail into the locker room.

‘You’re a cosy pair.’ Sara immediately teases.

‘Also I hate to interrupt but it’s our turn for media.’ Jule adds, with a mischievous grin.

You giggle and turn around to kiss your girlfriend on her cheek, ‘See you in a bit.’

Laura pouts, ‘Do you really have to go?’

‘Yes.’ You hum and kiss her again to appease her.

The blonde accepts it and relents, letting you follow Jule out of the room.

The younger player pokes fun at you as soon as the two of you are out of the striker’s earshot.

‘You’re so in love with her. Like you should have seen your heart eyes.’

You blush and shrug, knowing better than to try and counter any sort of comment about the depth of your feelings for your girlfriend.

‘Really! When's the wedding?’

Her words get a laugh out of you, ‘I don’t know Jule but I will be sure to invite you when I do know.’

That's how it is with the Wolfsburg player. She is easy to get along with and makes you smile a lot.

With the media team facilitating, the activity goes by quickly and with Jule participating along with you, is a great deal of fun.

In fact, you laugh so much that you’re still smiling when you get back to the locker room.

Lea is there, having finished her own media day activity.

Your Bayern teammate sidetracks you as you try to make your way to Laura, with a simple request of helping her touch up her make up for photos in the new home kit.

You’re happy to oblige, biting your lip in concentration as you apply a fresh coat of mascara to her eyelashes.

When you are finished and turn back to where Laura was sitting, she’s gone.

Sydney tells you that she’d left for her own media day activity when you ask.

With a sigh, you go and look for a snack to tide you over till your girlfriend is free.

It seems like Obi has the same idea because you find her already digging into a bag of corn chips.

She offers to share it with you but only if you listen to the list of pick up lines she’s been working on, with every intention of annoying her own girlfriend with them once she’s back home.

Sitting beside her, you dip your hand into the bag as you listen.

‘Are you lightning? Cause you’re McQueen.’

You snort, ‘Awful.’

Lena chuckles before reading out another, ‘Are you a charger? Because I'm dying without you.’

This one doesn’t even merit any response other than you rolling your eyes.

‘What’s it like to be the most gorgeous person in the room?’

You giggle, ‘I don't know. I'd have to ask Laura.’

The midfielder groans, ‘Stop it. You have it much too bad for her.’

Eating another corn chip, you nod acceptingly and Obi shakes her head in disbelief.

‘They say nothing lasts forever. Want to be my nothing?’

‘Eh. It’s not completely dreadful.’ You feedback.

‘Are your shoelaces tied? Because I don’t want you falling for anyone else.’

‘Cheesy but better.’

Lena grins and encouraged by your words, tells you another, ‘Let’s play a game…not hide and seek though, people like you are hard to find.’

‘No. No. No. Obi, that is terrible.’

‘Well the whole point is to annoy my girlfriend, not sweep her off her feet. I've already done that.’ She points out proudly.

You grimace and the brunette offers you more corn chips.

‘Last one okay? I swear.’

Her excitement should have clued you in to how cringey the next one would be but you don’t realise it till after she deadpans, ‘I had a good pickup line ready to go, but you're so good looking I'm literally speechless.’

You burst out laughing and Lena does too. Actual tears are gathering in the corner of your eyes from how hard you are losing it.

It is at that moment that Laura appears beside you, irritation clearly written across her face.

‘Lau.’ You greet and are taken by surprise when she leans in.

Faster than you can react, she pulls you into a heated kiss. One that she dominates, leaving you entirely breathless when she draws back.

The blonde ignores the wide eyed look on the Wolfsburg player’s face, shortly stating, ‘Oberdorf, the only person allowed to use pick up lines on my girlfriend is me.’

Then she pulls you away from Obi, not loosening the grip she has on your hand until you are in the hotel room you both are sharing.

She stares at you then, with an expression you’ve never seen on her face before. It unnerves you if you are completely honest because she has never been unreadable to you. Not like she is now.

‘What's wrong schatz?’ You softly ask.

‘I don't like Lena trying her pick up lines on you.’

‘She didn’t mean anything by them, you know that she has a girlfriend. I agreed to listen to them in exchange for her sharing her snack with me.’ You explain.

Laura huffs, ‘I still don’t like it.’

‘Lau? Everyone here knows that I'm yours. That you are the one I am in love with.’

Your girlfriend mellows a little at your words.

Ever so gently, you tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and whisper, ‘I love you Laura. You know that.’

She sighs, shoulders slumping down, ‘I know you do. I love you too, which is why this is so hard.’

You frown in confusion and the Eintracht Frankfurt player fidgets with the rings on her fingers, almost as if she is embarrassed as she admits, ‘I just miss you so incredibly much. The past month has been more difficult than usual because the last time I was able to physically see you was at our last camp and that was cut short because I got injured. Now at this camp, I have barely been able to spend time with you.’

‘Oh.’ You breathe as you realise that there is a reason behind your favourite blonde’s sudden clinginess.

She hadn’t been exaggerating when she mentioned how much she missed you, earlier in the day and you mentally kick yourself for not seeing it sooner.

‘You've spent more time with Jule and Obi than me and that’s alright because I know you don’t see them all that often but I miss you. I really really miss you.’

Laura is on the verge of crying now, her bottom lip wobbling as she stands in front of you.

‘I'm sorry. I know the distance is hard but I'm here now okay?’

Slipping your arms around her waist, you draw your girlfriend close to you. The forward melts into your embrace immediately, her chin resting on your shoulder.

‘I shouldn't have gotten jealous. I'm sorry.’ She mumbles.

You hug her tighter.

‘Don’t apologise schatz.’

From the moment you and the blonde had started dating, the two of you have been aware of the challenges a long distance relationship would bring. What you hadn’t been aware of, prior to your conversation, was how much your girlfriend has been struggling with them.

After turning your head so that you can press an affectionate kiss against her neck, you say, ‘Summer break is coming soon and then it’ll be just you and me okay? We’ve got that trip to Mallorca planned and I am looking forward to spending every minute of it with you.’

‘That sounds like heaven.’ Laura whispers.

You hum in agreement and check your watch before adding, ‘Till then we have enough time to take a nap before our tactics meeting? I don’t know about you but all the media stuff has tired me out…’

Your girlfriend doesn’t need to be asked twice.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

#laura freigang #laura freigang x reader #laura freigang imagine #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #eintracht frankfurt frauen #dfb frauen #gerwnt #katelynnwrites

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ohsalome · 10 months

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What Ukrainians ate to survive Holodomor

(translated excerpts from an Історична Правда article): + images source

The villagers would dig up the holes of the polecats to find at least a handful of grain hidden by these animals. They pounded it in a mortar, added a handful of oilcake (from hemp seed), beetroot, potato peelings, and baked something from this mixture.

Those who managed to hide at least a little grain would grind it in iron mills made from wheel axles and cook "zatyrukha" (a concoction made from a small amount of flour ground from ears of grain).

Acacia flowers were boiled and eaten raw, and green quinoa was mixed with crushed corn cobs. Those who could - and this was considered lucky - added a handful of bran. This food made their feet swell and their skin crack.

The peasants dried the husked ears of corn and millet husks, pounded them, ground them with weeds, and cooked soups and baked pancakes. Such dishes were impossible to chew, the body could not digest them, so people had stomach aches. Pancakes, the so-called "matorzhenyky", were made from oilcake and nettle or plantain.

It went so far that peasants would crumble straw into small chips and pound it in a mortar together with millet and buckwheat chaff, and tree bark. All this was mixed with potato peelings, which were very poisonous, and this mixture was used to bake "bread", the consumption of which caused severe stomach diseases.

There were cases when village activists took away and broke millstones, mortars, poured water on the heat in their ovens. After all, anything found or saved from the food had to be cooked on fire, and matches could only be purchased by bartering for their own belongings or by buying them in the city, which was impossible from villagers that were on "black lists".

Chestnuts, aspen and birch bark, buds, reed roots, hawthorn and rose hips, which were the most delicious, were used as food substitutes; various berries, even poisonous ones, were picked; grass seeds were ground into flour; "honey" from sugar beets was cooked, and water brewed with cherry branches was drunk. They also ate the kernels of sunflower seeds.

Newborns had the worst of it, because their mothers had no breast milk. According to testimonies, a mother would let her child suck the drink from the top of the poppy head, and the child would fall asleep for three days.

In early spring, the villagers began to dig up old potato fields. They would bake dumplings from frozen potatoes, grind rotten potatoes in a mash and make pancakes, greasing the frying pan with wheel grease. They also baked "blyuvaly" (transl. "vomities") from such potatoes and oatmeal mixed with water, which was so called because they were very smelly.

They ate mice, rats, frogs, hedgehogs, snakes, beetles, ants, worms, i.e. things that weren't a part of food bans and had never been eaten by people before. The horror of the famine is also evidenced by the consumption of spiders, which are forbidden to kill in Ukrainian society for ritual reasons.

In some areas, slugs were boiled into a soup, and the cartilaginous meat was chopped and mixed with leaves. This prevented swelling of the body and contributed to survival. People caught tadpoles, frogs, lizards, turtles, and mollusks. They boiled them, adding a little salt if there was salt. The starving people caught cranes, storks, and herons, which have been protected in Ukraine for centuries, and their nests were never destroyed. According to folk beliefs, eating stork meat was equated with cannibalism.

The consumption of horse meat began in 1931, before the mass famine. People used to take dead horsemeat from the cemeteries at night, make jelly out of it and salt it for future use.

Dead horses were poured with carbolic acid to prevent people from taking their meat, but it hardly stopped anybody. Dead collective farm pigs were also doused with kerosene to prevent people from dismantling them for food, but this did not help either.

After long periods of starvatiom, the process of digestion is very costing for the human body, and many people who would eat anything would drop dead immediately out of exhaustion.

If a family had a cow hidden somewhere in the forest, they had a chance to survive. People living near forests could hunt/seek out berries and mushrooms, but during winter this wouldn't save them. People living near rivers could fish in secret, but it was banned and punishable by imprisonment/death.

#holodomor #ukraine #history #ukrainian history #genocide #ussr #communism

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teaboot · 6 months

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Who is your OC that is the most fleshed out? Anything you care to share about them? What is a small detail about them that you rarely think about?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer within a certain amount of time or at all.*

YOU TRICKED ME INTO WRITING AGAIN

BÁTARD!

There is an old rotting seat in the middle of the woods where a young man appears to lay dead. His face is pale, his skin is tinted with mildew, his old wool coat is moth-eaten and moldy. A layer of topsoil covers his lap. His hair, slowly greening, has been plucked at by birds.

A long time ago, a man won a single wish, and knowing that wealth was fleeting and power brought danger, wished for incredible knowledge.

The wish granted him understanding of machinery, of magics, of medicine and physics, and insight into endless possibility. So much information that he cannot stop thinking, making connections, processing it all, struggling to grasp it.

Always thinking, he found soon that he could not fall asleep. Medicines helped for a short while, but he was never truly rested, and through desperation or happenstance he found with some horror that he also could not die.

The story is that a point came where he brought upon himself some sort of curse, to sleep, and to dream, and to never be disturbed.

Excepting, of course, under very specific circumstance.

Not everyone can see him, but those who do have affectionately named him "Alexander".

(He is more or less a landmark, like an oddly-shaped rock by the side of the road.)

Nevaeh is The Daedalus. She has no idea what that means. She has never gotten lost, no matter how far she's wandered.

Her bus always arrives at the stop shortly after she does. When she rides her bike, there is never a roadblock or construction in the way. She isn't always on schedule, but even when she's late, she seems to arrive on time.

She loves her parents. She likes to bake. Her sister is a dork, but they get along fine. Life is good- things are normal.

(Things are not normal.)

Jessie's name is not Jessie.

Probably.

Jessie gives different people different names.

Nobody's quite sure if they're human or a fairy of some kind, but they seem to show up everywhere and never seem particularly fazed by what's going on.

They always seem to be upbeat and unconcerned, but not in an uncaring sort of way- it's more like they just have this unshakeable confidence that everything is always going to end up fine.

Jessie is at the party, holding the host's cat. Nobody knows who invited them. Nobody knows anyone who knows them that well. Jessie offers you a corn chip.

Jessie is at the town hall meeting, sitting in the back row with their feet resting on the chair in front of them. They don't ask questions or interject, but seem interested as they snack on rainbow kettle corn.

Jessie is at the sacrificial ceremony, deep in the bowels of the community rec center. As candles flicker around you and the sound of chanting voices grow closer, they tuck a hard candy into your pocket and tell you not to worry so much.

(Jessie does not untie you from the dias.)

----------

None of these guys are my main character, but they're probably my favorites!!! Thank you so much for asking, I need to get back to work on this! ♡♡♡♡♡ oh, I'm all excited again!!! Aadfgghhfjgdgsggffk ❤

#Teaboot #I don't know how to tag this #Nevaeh tag #Alexander tag #Jessie tag #Teaboot OC's

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 10 months

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The Other Half Part Twenty Three

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Notes: This is a long one y'all. There's more angst, BUT there's a fluffy ending, so. Ya just gotta trust me.

Length: 6K

Warnings: Angst that ends in fluff, so you're gonna suffer, but you're gonna be happy about it; canon-typical violence; a D-level DC villain that's usually more of a Superman baddie, but he's fought Batman once or twice, so.

Summary: When Michelle had announced that she would be moving to Keystone City, you’d burst into tears. Your other friends had passed it off as you being overcome by the news of your oldest and dearest friend moving, but Michelle knew you, and she knew better. It hadn’t taken her long to drag the truth out of you.

“I never liked him.”

Michelle’s flat insistence makes you splutter a laugh through your tears. You sniffle, raising both hands and scrubbing at your eyes, knowing that you're almost certainly ruining your makeup. You’ve tried to put on a brave face, but Michelle has known since you arrived that something was off. She’s banished everyone else from the kitchen, giving the two of you a quiet space to talk. The odd swell of laughter and conversation reaches you every few moments, reminding you that you’re having an incredibly sensitive conversation just a few feet away from people that would probably sell it to the Gotham Gazette for one corn chip.

“Yes, you did,” You argue, raising your hand and scrubbing a tear away.

“...I mean, a little.” Michelle rips a piece of paper towel off of the roll, passing it over. “Did he tell you why?”

You dab at your eyes, trying to piece a reasonable explanation together—one that wouldn’t shock Michelle and expose Bruce’s secret.

You had waited up for Bruce all night, but he’d never come back. At least, he hadn’t come back to you. You’d realized when you’d gone down for breakfast that Bruce had returned, but slept elsewhere—down in the bat cave, maybe, or in an entirely separate wing of the house? But there he was at the table, genially listening to your father discuss whether or not the Metropolis Metros had any chance of making the playoffs that year. You had gotten yourself some coffee and sat at the opposite end of the table, unable to catch Bruce’s eye. He was avoiding it; he was avoiding you. He’d kept that up as you’d seen your parents to the car, as you’d hugged your mother and dodged her attempts to discuss what had been said last night. You saw the firm handshake that Bruce had shared with your father, the strained smile that he’d managed as your father had insisted that he hoped that there weren't any hard feelings.

The two of you had stood side by side as the car pulled out of the driveway, hands to yourselves, eyes set on the fading red tail lights until they were out of sight.

“Can we talk about it?” You finally hedged.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.”

You turned to watch him stride away, stunned. It took you a moment to follow, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up.

“I think there’s a hell of a lot to talk about!”

“I don’t agree.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because they’re right.”

“Excuse me?”

“They’re right!” Bruce barked, whirling around to face you. You froze in place, eyes widening as his yell echoed in the foyer. “I can’t keep you safe.”

“You have kept me safe—You do keep me safe, Bruce!”

“If I could, you never would’ve gotten kidnapped in the first place!”

“I got out of there because of you—”

“You got in there because of me!”

“There are people in this world that are just plain greedy, Bruce. There’s nothing that you can do about that, it is not your fault.”

“It’s my fault that you of all people were taken, and as long as you and I are together, you will continue to be a target.”

“I don’t care!”

“I do!”

“Oh, so you get to go out every night and put people away and get the shit kicked out of you even though you know I hate it and that’s fine, right? Bruce Wayne can make his own damn decisions and put himself in as much danger as he wants, but I get into one little situation and that’s it? You’re decided? I don’t get a say in this?”

“You get a say. You have had a say, but I am through knowing that I’m endangering your life.”

“Well let’s think this through, then. Who else are you putting in harm’s way? Lucius, for one—”

“That’s enough—”

“You’re endangering Alfred. Are you telling him that you’re through putting him in danger?”

“Do not bring Alfred into this.”

“It’s a bullshit argument, Bruce.”

“I’m done talking about this,” He warned coldly, turning away from you. You didn’t let him get far, keeping a pace or two behind him as he strode toward the study.

“What if I’m not?”

“I don’t give a damn.”

“What do you want, Bruce?”

“I want you to leave!”

He stopped short again, but there was no danger of you slamming into him this time. In fact, you took one step back, then another. You searched Bruce’s face desperately as your entire body felt like it was going to cave in on itself. You shook your head a little, hands flexing at your sides as you forced yourself not to reach out, not to tug him in and hold him close and beg him, plead with him to reconsider.

“You don’t mean that,” You insisted.

“I do.” Bruce’s gaze dropped to your shoes.

“Look at me.”

“I’ll have Alfred pack your things—”

“Look me in the goddamn eye and tell me that.”

“You can stay at the penthouse until Michelle can move you back in.”

“Bruce, don’t do this—”

“You can take as long as you need.”

“You—” You reached up, grasping the lariat necklace and yanking it roughly. You felt the clasp break roughly against your skin, heard diamonds scatter as you tossed it at his feet. “You are a fucking coward.”

You hadn’t let him see you cry, but you were sure he’d heard you. You’d hardly made it into your shared bedroom before you’d knelt down and let out a raw, sharp scream—one so long and so loud that you were hoarse when it finally broke. You had spent the day hiding out in your room, and had only managed to stop crying just long enough to fake a few smiles at Friendsgiving.

When Michelle had announced that she would be moving to Keystone City, you’d burst into tears again. Your other friends had passed it off as you being overcome by the news of your oldest and dearest friend moving, but Michelle knew you, and she knew better. It hadn’t taken her long to drag the truth out of you.

“We just, um…” You sniffle. “We just haven’t been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things lately.”

“Marriage? Kids?”

You shake your head at her plying.

“A lot of things.”

“...Does this have anything to do with the fact that your parents were at Thanksgiving?”

“Let’s just say their visit was less than stellar.”

“Oh, hon, I’m sorry,” Michelle shakes her head, taking your hands in hers. You give them a gentle squeeze in turn, eyes swimming as you look down at them. She’s quiet for a few moments before she plies:

“What are you going to do?”

“...May as well move to Metropolis,” You admit. “Mom and dad are there, you’re leaving, and Bruce…” You clear your throat. “There’s nothing keeping me here.”

“Will they let you transfer at work?”

“Something tells me they’ll have the bright idea first thing Monday morning.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“He’s stubborn. Once he gets an idea into his head, he won’t shake it.”

“You can be damn stubborn, too.”

You nod a bit. “I can, but I’m just…” You shake your head as the tears well viciously again. “I’m so damn tired, Mish. I can’t keep fighting for him if he doesn't want me.”

“Honey,” Michelle sighs, crowding close and drawing you into her arms. You curl your hands around her arm, keeping her close as the sobs begin to shake you again.

“How is the weather there?”

“We’re really resorting to speaking about the weather?” You smile. “My my, times are desperate. Did you pull the lilies up yet? Must be getting cold over there.”

“Now who is speaking of the weather?”

You chuckle at Alfred’s reminder, shaking your head. The two of you go quiet on your sides of the phone. You focus your gaze on your mom’s macrame plant hanger, shifting from foot to foot. You know how Alfred is (“Just fine, as always, dear.”), but you don’t dare ask how Bruce is.

“Have you settled in?” Alfred presses before you can bring anything else up.

“Um…” Your brow furrows. “The office is nice—bigger desks.”

“And the apartment? The car?”

“I’m with my parents. I don’t have a car.”

Alfred is quiet for a few moments before he offers: “Master Wayne—”

“I know what he did,” You cut in quickly. You'd gotten the email from the newly Wayne-owned apartment building, as well as the message to pick your new car up from the dealership when you'd arrived in Metropolis. “I don’t want anything from him.”

Alfred sighs softly on the other end, and it makes your gut twist. You lean back against the kitchen counter, looking down at the floor.

“...How is he?” You finally mumble.

“He misses you.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

“Buying you an apartment and a car?”

“I don’t care about things, he knows that. If he cared, he would pick up the—...Damn phone,” You trail off in a mumble as you hear yourself growing more and more frustrated. You tried calling him three times before you left Gotham, but you hadn't gotten a single response. You haven't bothered to try since.

“Anyway,” You clear your throat, “You never answered me about the lilies.”

“I have a few weeds to pull up before I cover the beds.”

“You should do that soon. It’s only going to get colder. Are the lights up in the city yet?”

“They are.”

“Must be nice. I love Gotham at Christmas.”

“How is Metropolis?”

“It’s nice! It’s nice. It’s fine. Pretty. Good lights. Not as good as Gotham’s, but good.”

“Are the accommodations at your parents comfortable, at least?”

Comfortable. That isn't the word you’d use. These days, you’re sleeping on a lumpy pullout couch in a cramped living room, living out of a duffel bag. They’re meant to be spending their days comfortably, not with their heartbroken daughter sleeping in the living room and trying to put the pieces of her life together. You’re grateful to them for opening their home, and you feel so ungrateful for feeling crowded, but a week ago, this was not the life that you pictured—

You raise your hand to pinch the bridge of your nose to stem a wave of tears.

“Mhm!” You nod, though Alfred can’t see you, hoping that the affirmative movement will bolster the firmness of your tone. “S’nice, it’s cozy.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Yeah! Yeah, thank you.” You clear your throat. “I should get going for work soon, I’ve got a meeting to prep for.”

“Of course. I'll send the remainder of your things tomorrow."

“Sounds great. I’ll call you soon.”

“It will be lovely to hear from you then.”

“It’s lovely to hear from you now.” You smile bitterly. “Bye, Alfred.”

“Goodbye.”

You lower the phone and hang up, raising your hand to swipe at the few tears that have managed to slip. Work, you have got to get to work. Your parents' place is a quick bus and train ride to and from the office, but you’ve been getting in early to get up to speed—and with the hopes of avoiding the paparazzi.

There aren’t nearly as many as there were when you were in Gotham, but so far, you’ve had a handful lingering around the front door when you leave. They always throw out questions—Why’d you leave Gotham? Did you and Wayne break up? Did he cheat on you? Why aren’t you living in the apartment with your name on it? Are you ever going back to Gotham?

You hadn’t bothered to answer a single question, just kept your head down and strode toward the train station. They had the decency not to follow you on, or back to the apartment. When you arrive this morning, there isn’t anyone with a camera outside the building. You give the receptionist a friendly smile before you head to the elevator, pressing the up button with a knuckle to keep from dropping your phone or spilling your coffee.

The office is quiet when you step inside. You can see a couple of other people there, but they don’t acknowledge you as you settle in. You open your laptop, humming to yourself as the laptop begins to boot up. You heard a few carolers performing Silver Bells on your way to the office, and it is stuck in your head now. You rest your chin on your hand, trying to picture what the grounds’ gardens must look like all covered over. You can picture Alfred crouching down, covering the raised beds with chicken wire, with Bruce pulling it taut from the other end—

You shift in your seat, trying to push the thought of Bruce away.

He’d be bundled up, too, maybe using the spare pair of gloves that you bought for Alfred—

Ugh, stop it! Stop, just banish him from your mind. That’s probably impossible, sure, but you can pretend, right? You click on the internet app, and freeze when you see the loaded article on the homepage: Bruce helping a model out of a car. You recognize her. You're sure that you’ve seen her at a couple of Liz’s parties. You can’t quite remember her name, though…Your eyes stray to the description before you force them away again, pulling up your email and biting the inside of your cheek to keep from letting tears fall. It feels like all you can do these days is cry, no matter what you do. You know that getting over Bruce is going to be slow-going.

Your hand strays to your neck, where the lariat necklace used to sit…No. Nope, letting it go. Taking out your headphones, putting on your favorite angsty playlist and letting it go.

“How was your day, honey?”

You poke through your container of leftovers as you lean against the kitchen counter. You give your mom’s question a placid smile, and don’t bother to say a word. You know that an admonishment isn’t far behind.

“Oh, don’t stand and eat,” She tuts just a moment later when she spots you.

“I’m fine standing, mom. I've been sitting all day.”

“Your day, honey.”

“It was okay. We got the invite for the Christmas party, it’s next week.”

“Everyone was nice?”

“It’s an office job, not my first day of kindergarten.”

“Well,” She sniffs, “Forgive me for asking a question.”

You roll your eyes.

“Everyone's pretty nice, yeah, but...I don't know. We reviewed this application for a toy maker who wanted to set up a workshop for the holidays, but the board wound up turning it down. I thought it seemed like a good cause,”

“Oh really, that’s nice.”

Nice. She isn’t listening—but you push on anyway:

“It’s a bummer, you know, this Schott Jr. guy’s application was kinda…Sad. It was a little childish, though. I think the writing on the grant really messed up his chances.”

“You can tell me about it later, hon. I have my quilting group tonight.”

God, your mother has more of a life than you do these days. “Well, have fun. Where’s dad?”

“Late shift.”

“Out on Neville Island? Jeez, how late are they gonna keep him?”

“Your father is a big boy.”

“I know, just…”

Your mom casts you an almost pitying look. “This isn’t Gotham, sweetie. He’ll be fine.”

You nod a little, peering down into your remaining leftovers.

“Have fun at quilt club,” You add as your mom heads for the door.

“Sure! We’ll keep it down when we come in!”

“Yeah, I know you all get really wild while quilting.”

“Oh, and honey?”

“Mm?”

“Try not to spend the night sulking. Maybe…I don’t know, go to a bar, pick someone up—”

You choke roughly as you accidentally inhale the bite of food. You regain your breath, throat throbbing as you gasp, “Mom!”

“The only way to get over someone is to get under someone! Okay, I’m going, I’m going,” She insists, holding her hands up in mock-surrender as she edges for the door, taking up her quilting tote bag. You scoff, turning and practically flinging the remainder of the leftovers into the trash as you hear her footsteps retreat down the hall.

“Only way to get over someone is to get under someone,” You mumble, “Fucking…Unreal.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing toward the trash can. Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown out those leftovers. You’re still hungry. Maybe you ought to get yourself out of the apartment, grab some food. Or...You reach into your pocket, drawing out your phone. You don’t call Alfred again—instead, you dial Michelle’s number and walk over to the couch, plopping onto it. You wince a little, glancing down at the cushions. You really should be more gentle with it, you are sleeping on it all the time.

You set the sound to speaker as you wait. It rings…And rings…And—

“You better not be calling to tell me that you’re back with that jerk.”

You can’t help but smile at Michelle’s candor.

“I haven’t even heard from…Him.”

“That jerk. Call him a jerk.”

“Mish, please.”

“Well, he is. But I guess I’ve said it enough for both of us.”

“How’s Keystone City?”

“Honey, I have never seen so much corn in all my damn life.”

“Is it doing the men out there any good?”

“It would have to be super corn if it did.”

“How’s the apartment?”

“Oh my god, it's fucking huge. Half the price we were paying in Gotham for double the size. You should move down here. With our joint funds, we’d be able to build our own mansion.”

“Mm, I don’t think I could move down just yet. I’ve only been at the Foundation for three months, and just moved to this location a week ago. If I up and left now, I’d lose my job in minutes.”

“We could find you one down here.”

“Is it very busy down there?”

“No. But maybe you could do with slowing down a bit.”

“Maybe. Hey, have you gotten your tree yet?”

“Have you?”

“The couch folds out right where it would go. Mom’s thinking of getting a small one that she can put on the kitchen counter.”

“She wouldn’t.”

“...I think it’s guilt,” You admit. “She’s why I’m here, anyway.”

“Ugh, you’ve hit the point of blaming your mother. Finally—took you long enough.”

“Well,” You grumble, “She wasn’t thinking, but her not thinking kinda got me on her couch. You know what she told me before going quilting?”

“What?”

“That I should go pick up a stranger.”

“What?” Michelle screeches, and you wince, turning your head away from the phone. “Oh, my god! Are you mortified? I would die, oh my god!”

You giggle, a lightness taking over you for the first time in several days.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, the sexual tension between me and the electrical sockets are slowly creeping up. I’ve gotta find my own place.”

“If you need a reference—”

“I’ll call you—”

“I will lie through my teeth.”

“You’re a dear.”

“...Have you spoken to him?”

No. “No.”

“Have you blocked him?”

No. “Yes.”

“Do you miss him?”

Terribly. “Maybe.”

“...Okay, here me out—”

“Oh, no, Mish—”

“I’m just saying, maybe your mom is on to something. Not like that, but—have you taken a moment for yourself since you got to Metropolis?”

You think for a few moments, shifting back on the couch.

“...No, I’m just working,” You admit softly. “I feel like if I let myself do anything but work, I’ll just…I’ll fall apart.” Your words quiver as you say it.

“I’m not saying don’t think about it,” She reassures. “I mean…It was almost a year with him, you know? Just…Don’t let that be the only thing that you think about.”

You sink back into your seat, lips pursing as your eyes begin to wet.

“I don’t,” You protest weakly. Michelle sighs on the other end, and you know that you haven’t fooled her for a moment. You shake your head, resolved to push the conversation in another direction:

“Are you going to paint any rooms in your apartment?”

“...I got a few paint samples.” You can hear how reluctant Michelle is to move on, but feel a swell of gratefulness when she does. “Mostly blues and greens. I’m thinking of some kind of turquoise for the kitchen.”

“Some kind of turquoise? Isn’t there only one kind of turquoise?”

“You know, I used to think that, but the paint section of the store proved me very, very wrong.”

You tuck yourself in early, knowing that you won’t be asleep by the time your parents get in. Still, you’d rather fake it than have them ask you if you had a nice night in. Worse, your mother could ask if you’d gone out and gotten under someone, as it were. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to focus on taking slow, even breaths.

You can’t help that Bruce creeps up in your mind.

What’s he doing right now? Is he creeping through some alley? Swooping down on a wrongdoer? Conferring with Gordon?

Elspeth Emerson, that’s that model’s name. She’d hardly spoken a word to you the couple of times that you had met her. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember what her voice sounded like.

Can you even remember what Bruce’s voice sounded like?

“I want you to leave!”

You wince at the thought, and you roll onto your side, as if you can pull away from the memory. Yes, you remember what Bruce’s voice sounds like. How long will it take until you forget? You peer through the curtains, chest muddling with pangs of regret and sadness as your mind begins to race—to wonder if things would be different if you’d just fought a little harder—

But how many times can you give your love to a man that’s trying to push you away? A man who only took a few days to get over you—or at least to go out and make it seem like he’s moving on?

He must have known that you wouldn’t use that apartment, or that car. He must have just wanted to seem like the bigger person, as if he wasn't the one that had sent you packing. You huff softly, raising your hand to swipe your tears away as they begin to leak. It’s no use; a few slip. It’s only a moment before the trickle turns into a stream, dampening the pillow beneath your head.

You fall into a rhythm. It isn’t a rut—it is decidedly not a rut. You manage to get up and out of the apartment before your parents are awake in the morning. The paparazzi stop lingering around the office, because your existence ceases to be news. You stop flinching at the mention of Bruce’s name; you stop hearing his voice as you try to fall asleep. The ache of missing him doesn’t disappear, but it lessens, some. You don’t take your mom’s recommendation of getting over Bruce by getting under someone else. You consider it, sure. You download a couple of dating apps, but you never actually make a profile. There’s just nothing about it that feels right.

You speak with Alfred almost daily—usually on the phone, if not over text. You don’t ask about how Bruce is doing, and he doesn’t tell you.

That doesn’t stop you wondering.

“What the hell is that?”

“Did you see it?”

“It’s so cute!”

“Do you think it’s some kind of office Christmas gift or something? A little teaser before the holiday party later?”

“You hear Wayne’s gonna be in attendance? Someone said they thought the saw him in the elevator. Do you think it’s because of…You know—”

“Who cares—Hey, does that thing move or is it just a decoration?”

Your coworker’s chatter draws your focus, and you turn away from your laptop. You can see people crowding around something by the elevators. You stand, joining them and peering around them to try and get a look at what they’re talking about. You can just catch a glimpse of a brightly colored, 5-foot tall nutcracker. Your brow furrows as you take in the fuzzy beard, the crisp blue paint of the nutcracker’s coat, the bright gold buttons, and the rifle tucked at its side. You nod at the painted script on one of the boots.

“What’s that say?”

“Schott and Son.” One of your coworkers steps forward, stepping around it and eyeing the back. “There’s a button back here!”

Schott and Son. God, why does that sound familiar?

“Press it!” Someone else urges. You hear the gears crank and whir, quickly covered by a music box rendition of the Nutcracker Suite. You smile a little, as the Nutcracker’s arms move as if marching. You all startle, then laugh as it steps forward and does a short bow. It reaches around itself, and your stomach churns as it grasps the butt of its rifle. You take a step back, warning,

“Uh, guys—”

“Lighten up,” Someone scoffs, “It’s just a toy.”

Their insistence is stifled by a gunshot, leaving the tip of the rifle smoking. You hear two panicked huffs before someone screams. You whirl around to see blood pouring from your coworker’s shoulder. Their scream is chased by others as the Nutcracker ventures deeper into the office, firing again. You scramble away as the others do, running for whatever cover you can find. You stumble as someone gives you a shove, practically climbing over you to get out of the way. You crawl along the floor, getting beneath a desk and tugging a chair in. You fold yourself in as tight as you can, clasping your hands together and fighting to keep your breathing and quiet as you peer out, watching people scramble to get out of the way of the Nutcracker.

Fuck, you left your phone on your desk, so you can’t call 911—Surely someone has, right? Someone’s heard the commotion from another floor, or an alarm has gone off, something—

You hear a horrifying thud, chased by a few more gunshots. You wince with the furious bashing sounds, raising your hands to press over your ears. You focus on your own pounding heart, your rapid breathing—

The feeling of the chair shifting beside you makes you scream and open your eyes.

The sight of Bruce crouching beside your desk makes you crumble.

“...It’s nice.”

It’s a feeble attempt at a compliment and a conversation starter. It’s also an insane understatement. It seems that Bruce didn’t only buy you this apartment—he’d had it furnished, and filled the fridge and cabinets with groceries, spices, all of your favorite goodies. You look from the fully stocked bar cart by the kitchen over to the living room, where Bruce is hurriedly closing the curtains over the lowered shades.

Maybe it shouldn’t be such a surprise that the apartment he chose is so big.

Just being the bigger person, You remind yourself, He doesn’t want to be the bad guy.

Bruce finally turns to look at you. You see his lips twitch with something unspoken before he purses them and swallows thickly. He looks so wan—pallid, and tired. He’d looked it when he’d found you beneath that desk, after apparently smashing the shit out of that Nutcracker with a printer. The ride to this apartment (in the car that he had bought for you and had driven to the office) hadn’t made it any better. Neither of you had spoken.

“You never, um…” You clear your throat. “What are you doing in Metropolis?"

“It was requested that I make an appearance at the holiday party.”

Your gaze narrows slightly. You smell bullshit...But you're not really in the mood to litigate it right now.

“Right.”

You turn away, finally, shrugging off your coat and tossing it over the back of a chair as you head for the bar cart.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Wayne. Great, even.” You take up a clean glass, setting it windowsill beside the car before you reach for the bottle of whiskey. “You want some?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“More for me, then.”

“Are you sure you wanna do that right now?”

“I can’t think of a better time.”

You reach for the seal, struggling to twist it off before you fling it away. You grasp the bottle firmly, trying to ignore your shaking hands as you lift it and the glass. You can’t steady them no matter how hard you try, but you pour anyway, some of the liquid sloshing over the sides and onto your fingers—

You go still as Bruce crowds up close to you, grasping your hands and forcing them down. The glass connects with the windowsill with a sharp, shrill sound; you wouldn’t be surprised if it was chipped, if not cracked. You squeeze your eyes closed as you just feel him—the heat and strength of him up against your back; the gentle press of his face against your hair, and the sound of him drawing in a deep breath; the warmth of his hands, steady over yours. Your lower lip begins to wobble as Bruce intertwines your fingers, using his grasp on your hands to curl your arms around yourself.

“Good thing I wasn’t in Gotham,” You quip dryly, forcing your stern tone over the your rapidly fracturing resolve, “Or today could’ve been a real disaster.”

You shake Bruce off, stepping out of his arms and snatching your glass from the sill, striding more deeply into the living room. You hear Bruce sigh behind you before he hedges:

“What do you want me to say?”

“An apology would be nice.”

“You want me to apologize for wanting you safe?”

“Was I safe today?” You snap, whirling to face him again. “Was that—Killer nutcracker something I was safe from? You can’t anticipate every moment of my life, Bruce. No matter where I go, I could be in danger. What, do you want me confined to a room somewhere and permanently out of harm’s way? What if someone breaks into that room?”

You search his face, desperate for some kind of recognition, some kind of understanding. Bruce shakes his head, his gaze dropping shamefully to his shoes. You lower yourself into an armchair, peering down at the amber liquid, watching it shift with your still-shaking hands. You hear Bruce cross the room before his shoes come into view. He grasps the wooden coffee table, tugging it closer and sitting on the edge of it.

“I just don’t…I don’t like the idea that someone could come after you again, with the purpose of getting to me, or getting something from me,” He admits softly. “I can’t be the reason that I lose someone I love. I can’t do that again.”

You lift your head as Bruce’s voice breaks, heart stuttering as you see his eyes well with tears. You set the drink aside, taking his hands in yours.

“I know that it scares you. It scares me, too. But Bruce, you cannot protect me from everything. But you do—” Your voice breaks as your face twists with upset, “You do protect me, from so much. You protected me after the kidnapping, you protected me today. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would’ve happened…’Sides between this and the attempted robbery at the store, I think I’ve proven that I can get into plenty of trouble all by myself.”

Bruce huffs a shaky laugh through his nose as he nods. He raises your joined hands to his lips, pressing kisses to your knuckles.

“I’ve missed you so goddamn much,” He murmurs.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“I want…” He winces at the phrasing, and seems to reconsider. “I mean…Would you consider coming home?”

Home. Your chest aches with it—with the thought of the mansion, and Alfred, and the covered garden beds.

“Bruce…I love you so much. I want us to have a life together, but…” You shake your head, steeling yourself as his face falls, “But I can’t keep having this argument. I can’t be pushed away from you over and over again and keep wanting to come back. This nearly broke me—No, Bruce,” You chase his gaze as he averts his, holding his eye as your tone grows more firm. “I understand that you want me in one piece, I get it. But how the fuck do you think I feel, night after night, knowing that every time you leave may be the last time I see you?...If I come back,” You hedge carefully, “This is…It. If we implode, or you change your mind and throw me out again, we’re through, I mean really through—”

“That will never happen again.”

“But—”

“You have my word.” He says it firmly, holding your eye as you held his. “I…I acted like an asshole. I didn’t want you to leave, but I thought it would be better for you.”

“Nothing about this has been better for me.”

“I know, I see that now. I’m sorry.”

You nod a little, looking down at your hands.

“...You just want me back in Gotham so you can keep a closer eye on me.”

Bruce chuckles softly, raising a hand to cup your cheek.

“I want you back in Gotham because nothing has been right since you left.”

You tip your face into his hand, letting your eyes slide closed and allowing your tears to fall as you accept the gentle touch. Bruce shushes you softly, smoothing your tears away and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Tell you what,” He murmurs. “Why don’t you call your parents, let them know you’re alright and you’re spending the night here before we go back. I’ll figure out getting your things back in a couple of days.”

“They’re not gonna like that…And the Foundation’s going to be pissed.”

“S’okay. I think they’ll understand you transferring back after what happened in the office. They've cancelled the holiday party to secure the building, make sure that thing didn't have any extra surprises hiding anywhere.”

“Speaking of which,” You lean back, scrubbing your eyes. “There’s someone you should look into.”

“What do you mean?”

“The uh…The Nutcracker, it had a name on it—”

“Schott and Son.”

“Right. Winslow Schott Jr. put in an application for funding from the Foundation, but it was denied.”

Bruce’s frown deepens. “When did this happen?”

“Uh—Two weeks ago, maybe? He left a few angry calls and emails, but then he dropped off, so we figured he’d given up.”

“Did he have a company he applied through, or was it just him?”

“Umm…” Your brow furrows as you try to remember. “It was…The Toymaker, or…The Toyman, something like that.”

Bruce hums, nodding. “I’ll have Fox pull the file, see what we can find.”

“Okay.”

You stand and step away, and only make it a couple of steps before you hear Bruce stand. He catches hold of your hand, folding you into his arms. You go willingly, pressing your face into his neck and drawing in a deep breath as you cuddle close.

"Bruce?"

"Mm."

"Why are you really in Metropolis? I know you, you hate these parties."

Bruce's thumb sweeps along your lower back as he peers gently at you.

"I needed to see you," He admits softly. "It was just supposed to be for a minute...But I was headed to your floor, and I heard the shots, and..." His face goes tight, his jaw tensing. "I couldn't stop myself."

"I'm glad you didn't," You give him a small, reassuring smile. "But I'm a little biased." You reach up, gently sweeping your fingers across his stubbled cheek.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” You accuse.

“Told you,” He mumbles, “Nothing’s felt right since I lost you.”

You tip your chin, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Then it looks like you found me just in time."

Next Part

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #The Other Half

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elinorasims · 2 days

Text

Build | Strangerville | Ziggy's Diner

Lot Info

Ziggy's is a compact restaurant and bar combo with a Strangerville twist: classic red booths and an elongated mid-century modern bar layout meets sci-fi inspired and 50's-kitsch inspired cluttered decor..

It's giving the diner from the movie 'Paul'. I hope. lol

Ziggy's has a fully customised menu featuring some Mountain States inspired comfort dishes and some American classics (full menu below the cut).

DOWNLOAD >>

Interior Tour

Bar

Staff Areas

Floor Plan

| hi my loves

hopefully you like this one- it was super fun to build and I'm finding my feet a bit more building for this save, i think!

it's been playtested (briefly lol) and should be fully functional and a smooth enough restaurant experience for your sims to enjoy.

i love Paul so much aha we watched it this past weekend and i was immediately like 'yup. gotta go do a strangerville build now.'

| dag dag fn. <3

Ziggy's Diner Menu

Drinks water ; lemonade ; milk ; orange juice ; coffee ; cream cola ; fizzy fruity drink ; pitch black ; root beer float ; soda ; tang and zing ; boiler room ; eapa ; juice on the rocks ; wrench ; galactic vita-water ; silent film ; sour punch ; sunset valley ; alien juice ; cupid juice ; space energy drink ; jet juice

Appetisers chips and salsa ; mac and cheese ; bowl of olives ; bread roll ; french fries ; whole wheat bread ; popcorn shrimp ; garden salad ; cheesy bread ; grilled plantains ; seafood chowder ; soft shell crab cake ; empanadas ; watermelon salad

Mains mac and cheese ; chicken nuggets ; popcorn shrimp ; baked potato ; hot dog ; lobster roll ; veggie burger ; chicken and waffles ; fried chicken sliders ; mushroom waffles ; sausage and peppers ; scrambled eggs with bacon ; seafood chowder ; tofu dog ; fish tacos ; hamburger ; fried fish ; pancakes ; aubergine Parmesan ; sweet corn pizza ; mushroom steak ; french toast ; vegetable chilli ; egg white omelette ; mushroom soup ; bbq ribs plate ; blackened bass ; gumbo ; steak

Dessert neapolitan ice cream ; rainbow sorbet ; vanilla ice cream ; alien fruit tart ; cream filled donut ; cream snack cake ; honey cake ; plain waffles ; rainbow brownies ; hamburger cake ; chocolate chip cookie ; apple pie ; banana cream pie ; pumpkin pie ; simcity cheesecake ; fruit cobbler

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great-and-small · 3 months

Note

I thought that all dog paws smelled like corn chips and it was cute but I just googled it bc curiosity and I saw a lot of results about a possible bacterial infection. I only babysit dogs and not own, but is this misinformation or should I inform the owners?

The “corn chip” smell is produced by bacteria but it doesn’t necessarily indicate an infection or medical problem. Normal canine skin bacteria can produce the smell in healthy paw pads as well as those with an underlying skin condition. I probably wouldn’t worry too much about the frito feet unless the odor is overwhelming or you’ve noticed something else amiss with the pup.

#asks #frito feet

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eponadolls · 4 months

Text

BJD Sales

Hi everyone! I will have several big expenses over the summer (wisdom tooth removal, newer car, potential ADHD and pcos evals/diagnoses, etc) and I want to make sure they are as... least-impacting as possible on my savings, especially since most are medical and I have no idea how much my insurance is actually going to cover... so any reblogs and shares are always appreciated!

Most things will be cross-posted on Den of Angels, Instagram, and Facebook. Additional information will be under the cut. I ship from the USA and due to postal concerns, I can only send the large, high-value packages within the USA right now.

Allergen warning: I live in a pet-friendly, non-smoking household near a corn mill.

Harucasting Smile Maji head: She’s some kind of tan resin, but I don’t 100% remember which one. Her previous owner split the head and body so the coa went with the body. I remember her previous owners name & email, but I don’t recall their instagram handle. Maji has thankfully NOT been recasted so I do not worry about her legitimacy, but I wanted to be upfront about that detail. Her magnets need to be reglued and she still has faceup residue. As with any of my Harucasting dolls, in respect to Haru’s wishes, I will only sell his dolls to pro-artist/anti-recast individuals.

$100 + shipping

5stardoll Elf Elaine: She was painted by her previous owner and given a mani-pedi which is chipping as well as pretty purple body shimmer. Her face still has faceup residue on it. She’s really cute but I need to make room — I am willing to sell her head separately, though. According to her card of authenticity she was produced in late 2018. I believe she is in normal pink skin.

$170 + shipping

Latidoll Blue Yern:

Yern is a slim MSD sized doll and the Blue (MSD) line has been long discontinued. Yern still has her coa and Latidoll manual, as well as the emblem in and outside of her head. I am not sure of the specifics but her torso has had some kind of mod job for mobility reasons?

Yern is from early 2009 and has certainly yellowed, but her yellowing appears to be consistent. Yern would probably benefit from a restringing with thicker elastics but I can get her to pose and stand just fine. Her s hooks were replaced and she has traditional/standard bjd s hooks in her wrists and ankles. For whatever reason one elbow likes to stay slightly bent. Yern will be shipped UNSTRUNG so that would be a good opportunity for her elastics to be changed; she still has an o hook for her head.

Her faceup is holding up really well considering it is quite old but please be aware that it is old, has some wear, and it is not factored into the price I am selling Yern at. The biggest sign of wear I noticed as a small dark streak near her temple.

She has some damage near her foot/ankle. Considering her age I think she has been holding up really well.

$100 + shipping

Dollzone MSD Girl Body: normal pink resin. Arrived from Alice collections in late 2022, spent most of its time in the box. Asking $200 + shipping.

Harucasting Big Geuru: She is in neul medium tan. She has a face up by @tonocha331. She has an extra pair of hands and comes with her box and card of authenticity. She will come without clothes or eyes.

She has some small s hook scratches in one wrist from a previous owner and several small scratches on her belly. Her face up seems to be in overall good condition other than three shiny spots on the side of her head. $550 + shipping

Logandolls Primrose: Primrose in light tan (coffee) with additional heel feet (strung) and an extra pair of hands. She does not come with a company box but she has a card of authenticity and comes with a blanket that I believe logandolls made for her. Received in a trade from my friend @groovyblueworld! She will NOT come with a pair of eyes. If desired, I can ship her in an old Dollzone company box for extra protection. Ordinarily she would cost $480 new but I am asking $440 + shipping - you basically get the extra hands and feet for free and an extra $10 discount. I can also sell a Flower Primrose faceplate in Resinsoul normal for an additional $40.

$440 + shipping

#dollblr #bjd #ball jointed doll #doll collector #doll community #bjd sales #bjd sale #eponadolls #harucasting #dollzone #logandolls #5stardoll

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zombiewhor3 · 1 year

Text

WAKE UP

rick grimes x fem reader (carl grimes featured)

WARNINGS: mentions of walkers, implications of character death, mentions of character almost dying, angst, (no actual character death), mentions of Shane, fem reader.

she watched him limp as the boy ahead of them seemed to ignore as his father called out for him to slow down. y/n held her and Rick's bag on her back and shoulder so he wouldn't limp as much.

Once they reached the door of the house y/n had knocked harshly with her fist maybe to see if there were any walkers inside or near around the house they stood at.

she could see some of the paint chipping on the door and she was almost startled at the sound of a walker planting it's hand against the glass of the window pressing its face against it.

"stay here Carl, i'll clear it" he had given an order and they both knew it was what he wanted, they knew that he believed he was strong enough to do this on his own and maybe he was but not now.

not with the limp in his leg from being shot and not with the dehydration and the hunger that spread inside him.

"we can't let you do it alone, you can barely stand on your own Rick" she spoke up against him seeing as his son nodded in an agreement, slipping out his own gun from his holster.

she could see the furrow in his brows as he took it as maybe a sign of them calling him weak, he rubbed over some of the stubble from his beard and looked at the two in front of him.

"we'll help you clear it, it's nothing new just like the prison" Carl spoke watching his father hesitantly take in a sharp deep breath looking over at his girlfriend who he could tell was about to speak.

"let me do it myself" he spoke abruptly, he could feel a hand rubbing on his shoulder and he had finally made up his mind looking at the two of them so eager to help him, to help their group.

The door squeaked open with a crack and just enough y/n was able to place a knife in the walker's fleshy skull hearing it thud and drop to the ground with a sudden plop.

they could hear more rasping coming from up the stairs and Rick had placed a firm hand on Carl's chest looking over as y/n gripped onto her knife and tried her best to be quiet on the stairs.

she could hear the rasping and growling coming from behind a door, scratching and clawing to get out the walker was desperate, so desperate just for its next meal.

she used her foot to barge open the door and she could see it was a women, not to old but dressed in a night gown. Without even a struggle she easy had killed the walker and took a deep breath in.

she opened each of the other doors with a pre-caution making sure that there had been anymore that were lurking around inside the house. And once it was all clear and walker free she made her way down the stair case and tossed her bag onto the kitchen table.

she watched and heard as cabinets were torn apart and searched for any trace of food or water they could get, Carl smiled as he held up a box of Cereal taking a glance at his father and y/n.

"kitchen wasn't empty" he spoke shoving it into his bag along with a can of creamed corn that was dented slightly, he made his way up into the house admiring the windows and all the rooms inside.

He had ventured his way around the house amazed but the sights it had given to him, yet he could feel his fathers eyes burning into him with each and every move he made. when he tried opening a door to a guest bathroom his hand was grabbed.

"don't there could be walkers in there" Rick huffed feeling his son harshly pull away his hand from his grasp, he huffed and took a look at his father before banging his fist against the wall.

y/n sat in the living room, her feet propped up on the coffee table while she had been eating a can of whatever the hell she had managed to scavange from the cabinets of the kitchen.

she was startled by the noise of loud banging and the sound of Carl yelling, "Hey asshole! Hey shit face!"

he yelled making y/n rapidly put down the can on the coffee table and she made her way up the stair case and into the guest bedroom.

"Watch your mouth!" She heard Rick lecture at his son and she was like a deer in headlights frozen at the glimpse of them staring at her.

Carl had opened the door to show there was nothing inside, and instead of even a word slipping from his father's mouth he made his way from the bedroom and back into the living room.

the couch was slammed against the door and Carl looked at his father un amused by the situation, "it's fine i tied the door shut" Carl remarked hearing Rick reply dully,

"we don't need to take any chances besides this is fine for tonight it'll have to do anyways because we have no other choice"

"what you don't think it'll hold? it's a clove hitch. Shane taught me it. Do you remember him?" Carl could feel the bitter question slip right off his tongue and he wasn't even sure if he felt sorry about it.

y/n swallowed harshly and looked down at the floor, "carl" she managed to croak out to him knowing that his words were eating up his own father inside.

"i remember him , i think about him everyday god damn day. Now anything else you want to say to me son?" Rick pressed the couch against the door one more time before he untied and slipped off his boots setting them beside the couch.

y/n did the same and pulled off her flannel leaving her in a tank top, she watched Rick lay back on the couch and she snuggled up to him, her head on his chest while he stroked her hair.

she watched as Carl made his way up the stairs, his boots clomping against the wood so loud like it was intentional just to piss his father off, just to get his father going.

"what am i going to do?" he asked poking his tongue into the side of his inner cheek, he could hear the woman on her chest take a deep breath in as she adjusted herself so that she could look at him.

"he's a teenager and he's worried Rick. maybe he's scared and doesn't want to show it." she presumed all of what she said to be honest, she could understand how Carl was feeling.

the feeling of losing their home and losing people that they cared about, she understood the toll that it seemed to have on him.

"you are a good dad, one of the best fathers in the world" she spoke the truth even if he felt that it was a pity set of words only used to make him feel better and to chase away his feelings.

he smiled at her looking to see her head resting back against his chest, he closed his eyes and seemed to wrap his arms around her even tighter than he ever had.

she looked around to see she was still laying on Rick's chest, his arms had slipped to the side and one of his hands dangled from off of the couch. She gently slipped away trying not to disturb his peace after all this was the first he had slept in days.

she made her way into the kitchen seeing as Carl stood holding a can of opened chocolate pudding, "where the hell did you find that?" she chuckled placing a seat at the table.

"in another house down the street" he replied as he filled a spoonful of the dessert in his mouth and shrugged his shoulders at her, he watched her smile drop and her brows furrow softly.

"i'm sorry another house? but we didn't go to another house Carl" her tone became sharper and her voice more forceful, still in a whisper not to wake the man who was sleeping.

"i did, i snuck out from the window when you guys were still asleep and i went scavenging for supplies, and look at me i'm still okay. i don't need him" he remarked at her and she shook her head at him.

"do you know how dangerous that is?! Carl what if you weren't okay? What if you got bit? or what if someone else was out there?"

she was angry but more worried for his safety than anything, she had practically jumped up from the table to eye him for maybe any visible bruises or bites or scratches that he could've gotten.

"but i didn't! I didn't get bit or hurt! i can do things on my own, i don't need you and my father babying me all the time" he raised his voice at her and she pressed her hands against the table leaning against it while she took in a deep breath.

" we're not babying you, its to keep you safe because out there it's dangerous and you know that. You've seen how dangerous it is. you can't make stupid decisions not after everything that's happened"

she almost had tears in her eyes just thinking of losing him after Rick had felt the guilt of losing Judith during the war at the prison, he had practically been eating himself up inside as he tried to swallow the guilt that was overwhelming him.

Carl hadn't said anything but instead he gave a soft nod at the woman who had patted him on the shoulder before she stepped back into the living room to check on the still asleep man.

he had been asleep and it seemed as if he wasn't even bothered by the loud commotion Carl and y/n had caused in the kitchen the two of them caused over the disagreement.

she checked her watch and seeing as it was around 1 o'clock it would be the perfect time to get on the road because they couldn't stay here anymore, they couldn't stay in this place because it wasn't safe.

there was no supplies, no way to signal for walkers and they were alone with just the three of them and both of the boys were out of bullets in their guns.

she shook his shoulder softly and whispered his name, with not even a gesture or response she shook him again this time harder and she watched his body shake a little waiting for at least maybe a groan or a flicker of his eyes opening but there was nothing.

she figured he was playing a joke on her, that he was going to eventually crack a smile at her as if he was trying to fake the idea of sleeping just to get her to crawl back with him

"it's not funny Rick seriously now get up we have to go" she pushed him harder and she could feel her heart sink when she realized that maybe he wasn't actually playing some dumb prank on her.

she started to shake him even harder and quite faster now, "Rick please, wake up" she pleaded at him and his eyes still were closed his body still limp and she could hear him lightly breathing.

"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" she yelled as she had taken a cushion from the couch and roughly hit him with it, still he remained with his silent breathing and not even an expression.

Carl had stepped into the living room his hand on the knife as he had a visble confusion on his face as to why y/n was yelling at him,

he was also confused by the fact that his father hadn't been waking up by her multiple attempts of her shaking him and hitting him with the pillow, he watched her swallow harshly as she took a look at him.

she had tears streaming down her face and a lump in her throat that was impossible to try to swallow back once more, she held onto his hand using two of her fingers to feel that he still had a pulse.

she wondered if the damage from getting the shit beat out of him by the governor had an impact. she wondered if he was in a coma, or if he was dying or maybe he was just brain dead.

she could see Carl and the tears he had in the orbs of his eyes, he tried to force his father to wake with his own attempt of a yell and a shove but it was still nothing other than the slight breathing and rise of his chest that he got back.

y/n dropped his hand and let it dangle from the couch as she pulled away the now crying boy away from Rick, "what's wrong with him?!" he asked rapidly and this time she didn't have an answer

because she truly didn't know what was wrong with him, she didn't have the answer this time and now it was eating her up. It was eating her up because she couldn't seem to calm Carl.

she couldn't seem to settle the boy with the pity of 'everything was going to be okay' because she didn't know, she didn't know whether Rick was going to wake up or if he was going to turn into one of those flesh eating monsters that were out there.

they were both crying and Carl seemed to plead a sorry, he hadn't really meant that he didn't need his dad or the fact that he had practically begged for independence to get away from his father.

it was like a curse from the universe that had seemed to twist his words into something even worse, he didn't want his father to die, he wanted his father to wake up from whatever the hell this was.

"why isn't he waking up?!" his voice cracked and this time y/n didn't have an answer because she was in just as much shock as he was, she was just as upset and confused as the boy in her arms.

she slipped off his hat and placed it onto the floor next to them so she could stroke over the top of his head and try to rock him into a settle state just to calm him down.

"i don't know Carl, i don't know" she replied softly and she could feel him squirm in her arms as he still tried to crawl back to his father but something inside of her couldn't seem to let him go from her arms.

he had softly said her name, a gentle call out for her to just let him go but now she was the one frozen in the state of wanting to give up because without Rick her whole world was gone.

she felt like she was almost about to sink into her own phase of a deep slumber just from her exhaustion and the emotions that had been pouring out of her for all this time, she was tired from the way her lungs kept gasping for air each time she felt like they were closing from panic, and she was tired of losing people.

she jumped up at the sound of hearing him groan even if it was small and weak it still made her heart jolt,

his hand moved softly against her back to settle her because he could tell that something had spooked her from her half awake state.

it was him who spooked her into opening her eyes, it was a shabby breath he let out and now it was the movement of his hands that slipped underneath her tank and out on the tender skin of her back.

he rubbed his coarse palms to soothe her and it almost felt un real, it almost felt like a fever dream or maybe just one hell of a miracle that he had seemed to waken up from whatever the hell he was in.

"oh god Rick" she clutched his shirt bawling her fists and burying her face into the crook of his neck to make sure that this was all real, to make sure that he wasn't going anywhere.

she had tears flowing against him, "whats going on y/n? talk to me" he spoke in such a worried manner that it made her own heart race even more at the fact he had no clue what was going on.

"you were out for two days and Carl and i were so worried i didn't know what to do Rick" her hands gripped at the fabric of his clothes and she watched him blink slowly as he swallowed in what she said.

"you wouldn't move and i waited, i waited with my knife because i thought you were going to turn" it made her ache just explaining what she had done in the time of his slumber,

the way she was so afraid and the way she had a hand tight;y gripping the handle of her knife ready to use it if he had turned into one of those things that filled the streets.

if he turned into a rotten piece of flesh that tried to kill them, one who was nothing but filled with violence and chomping teeth that always couldn't seem to get enough of human flesh.

"i'm here" he assured her and he could feel her breathing start to slow down each and every time he hummed those two words to her because it was all she needed to here. it was all she needed to keep herself going was that he was here.

he hummed them again and again until finally his son had stepped into the room rubbing his eyes to see that his father was awake and that this wasn't just some fever dream.

without even a doubt or hesitation Rick had Carl by his side, wrapping his arms around him taking in a deep sigh for the scare that he had given them from the amount of time he was asleep.

"it's okay. we're okay"

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