#sorry it's been a while

[occudo]

Paranoia? Secrets? In my Archive? Well... I was able to spend more time and energy to make this (the longest chapter yet) thanks to my lovely kofi supporters, thank you so much! They are the reason this comic still goes on. If you don't remember, or new to this AU:

More from this au

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And if you like what I do, or want me to draw something for you my kofi

[outtoadventure]

🦋~LOSTBELT 6 IS FINALLY HERE AND SO IS OBERON~🦋

[salamander-does-art]

quick thing i did during class.

[indistinct-radio-chatter]

Mulder: *Gets down on one knee*

Scully: *Getting down with him* what are we looking for?

Mulder *hand in his pocket around a ring*: Scully...

[bobparkhurst]

hi submitting “dragging the other with them, holding their hand” for Ken and a bobparkhurst original, because we miss George OCs over here in Poet Town

It hadn’t been something he’d planned, to slip into the small movie theatre in the centre of this town, but he’d caught sight of the title playing and a jagged shape somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach had twisted so sharply that his breath had stuttered in his throat. Halting in the entrance, he’d laughed at his own surprise and found himself buying a ticket before he’d really thought about it at all. Isn’t this what she’d said, anyway? That she could leave him behind with something better than just the picture she hadn’t been able to give him, the one that he had asked for in that one too-public moment, just before she had been packed back up into her jeep and out of his existence.

Her hand grips his tight as she pulls him beneath the edge of a hut, pressed hard against the side of it in an effort to escape the sudden downpour. She yelps a giggle as a particularly large drip slides down the neck of her dress. Her red lips stretch wide into a grin as she looks up at him, eyes smudged black with running kohl; the unhidden enthusiasm is infectious, even if he doesn’t understand it. He can feel himself smiling back. 

On screen, she stumbles her way to the edge of a cliff, wind whipping her white dress behind her like a cloud, arms outstretched, reaching for something just out of frame. She looks smaller than he remembers, slight and trembling as she is caught fast in strong arms and held, safe and secure away from the edge. Her eyes are wide and glistening as they stare up at her saviour.

Privately, he doesn’t think she was quite right about the picture. It would have at least been her.

“There’s a door!” she gasps out, and darts towards it. He doesn’t have a chance to protest as he’s pulled along with her. She slides them both through, out of the rain and into the dim light beyond. 

“Oh, Bunny’ll have my hide for this,” she says, slightly breathlessly. She shakes her head, drips flying from her curls, now somewhat flatter than they had been on the stage that afternoon. She sighs dramatically and waves a hand at her ruined dress. The effect is somewhat ruined by the giggle she is entirely failing to suppress. “I must look frightful.”

“We should be getting you back, miss,” he says. She snorts, wringing her hair out. Water splatters loudly to the floor.

“I’m not going outside again until it stops,” she huffs, though there's still a glittering twitch in the curve of her mouth. “I shall melt quite away.”

“They’ll be wondering where you are.”

“They can come find me with an umbrella,” she replies. “But I-”

A roll of thunder drowns out her next words and she raises herself to her tiptoes, peering outside through a small window. Her breath fogs against it and she draws one long line down the pane. “I’m sure it’ll blow over in a moment.”

It’s still light out when he emerges again. He folds the ticket stub between his fingers, over and over till it’s nothing but a sharp nub of card, pricking against his thumb. Something strange and empty gnaws inside his chest. He flicks the ticket out onto the street and rubs a hand over the back of his head. The sound of other people’s conversations patter against him and he ducks out of the way of the crowd that’s beginning to pour outside, clattering down the stone steps to the street below. She’ll be in Ireland by now. It feels almost as distant as Arkansas.

“Here.”

She looks at him sharply as he shucks his jacket, holding it out to her. 

“It’ll just get more wet,” she says. He shrugs. “Or are you offering it to me so I’ll go outside again?”

“I’m kind of worried about my hide,” he tells her. “Can’t go getting myself a reputation.”

Her laugh is broad, brassy, a low cackle that fills the room and his head as bright as the crash of storm-lightning from outside. 

“All right,” she says, more gently now. She lets him tug the jacket on over her, close enough that he can smell the perfume that rolls with the raindrops from her shoulders. “All right. I understand.” 

The jacket hangs too long, too heavy on her body. Wrapping one arm around herself, she pulls it closed and tight, and raises her other hand back towards him, palm upstretched. 

“I hope you’re a fast runner,” she says, as she closes her fingers around his.

He will see her again.

[simmysunset]

Whoever Loves Her Next - 07

wordpress version

Throughout the next few weeks after I told my parents, the name of the game was avoidance. I was avoiding everything possible when it came to even thinking about Harry, but the world made this harder on me than I ever would have thought.

I should have known before ever getting on the plane to Florida that I would be caught by paparazzi there. It hardly took 24 hours for the pictures to spread all over social media, along with the presumptions from both fans and magazines. Most of them were correct in assuming I was pregnant, but neither Harry or I had taken to the press to confirm anything. I know he wouldn’t want to say something to anyone without my permission. As for me, I refuse to step back into the spotlight before I’m ready.

It takes a couple days and one post in particular for me to decide to log out of all my social medias for the time being. It was a short video clip from the night of the concert before we lost Michael, one that I had been refusing to see ever since it started spreading.

It shows Harry’s face the very moment he saw Alex offstage, signaling him to come off despite them being in the midst of a song. He didn’t hesitate. He nearly dropped his guitar and sprinted off the stage, knowing just by a glance that something was wrong. The video ends abruptly as everyone in the audience realized that something was happening. I held my phone against my chest and fought back the tears at the memories rushing through my mind.

From that moment, I knew I couldn’t handle anymore bombardment from the fans and press. I didn’t even announce my departure from my accounts, I just logged out without a word to anyone. If anyone I knew needed to contact me, they’d have to do it through a text or phone call.

The avoidance came in other ways, too. My coworkers had been asking about my trip, but I brushed it aside every time they brought it up. Occasionally, I would hear two of the younger staff members whispering when I would step into the break room for a drink. I knew it was about me, and yet, I still did my best to ignore it.

On top of that, I had put off making an appointment with my OBGYN almost every day. My annual exam wasn’t for another few months, so she would know something was up the moment I called. I hadn’t even worked up the courage to search for the office’s phone number yet. The closest I got was sitting on my bed in near tears, clinging onto the pregnancy test with one hand as the other wiped at my eyes.

I knew one of the hardest parts of being pregnant again would be telling my friends. I could hardly even admit it to myself, so saying it to another person felt like mission impossible. One of my closest friends, Clarissa, was the first one I told and was completely out of the blue.

She insisted on taking me shopping to get me out of the house, as she knew how depressed I was, but not the reason why. Her intentions were good, but all I could think about as she sifted through the racks of clothes was that soon, I’d be outgrowing all of mine due to the little person in my stomach.

“What you really need is a new dress,” Clarissa insisted. “A night out on the town with me and some hot guys is the perfect way to make yourself feel alive again.”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled as we went to the next rack, this one being full of short, glittery dresses. “I don’t really need new party clothes.”

“Well, then what part of the store do you want to go to?” She asked.

My stomach started twisting into a knot as I spoke. “Maybe the maternity section?”

The moment the words fall out of my mouth, I can feel her eyes on me. Her lips are parted not only in surprise, but worry. She knows how terrifying pregnancy is for me now, but I can tell that she is so shocked she doesn’t know what to say. I do it for her as the tears begin welling up in my eyes.

“I didn’t go on vacation. I went to Harry.” My voice wavers when I speak his name, and she reaches out to rest a hand on my shoulder while I wipe at my eyes to stop them from overflowing.

“He’s just so different from who he was,” I tell her. “And I know I’m different, too, it’s just…”

“Scary?” Clarissa assumes correctly, and I nod in response. “Are you scared that you’re too different to get back together?”

I huff in frustration when a tear manages to escape. I quickly wipe it away as I reply. “I’m scared of that; I’m scared of losing the baby. I’m scared of everything. To move too much or breathe too hard. I’m scared I could fuck it all up again and make him fall back into the pit he was in a few months ago.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up, babe.” She pulls me by my shoulder to enter a hug. This only makes me want to cry more. “And you can’t bend over backwards for him to try keeping him away from the pit. You have to focus on staying away from it yourself.”

A sob erupts from the back of my throat, and I squeeze her tightly. “I don’t know how to stay away when every day, I seem to be a little closer to the edge.”

“That’s what you have me for,” she assures me. “I’ll always be here to bring you back, okay?”

I sniffle as I rest my head against her. “Okay.”

beginning | previous | next

[walnutpeach]

luke's birthday SSRs

[incorrect-dream-smp-quotes]

Tommy, running into the room: I ate Phil's snickers, how long do I have to live?

Techno: Five.

Tommy: Five what?!

Phil, from the other room: TOMMY!

Techno: Four.

[datheetjoella]

You Make Everything Okay

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: M Summary: Unlike most people, Haruka wasn’t very eager to meet his soulmate. Half of the reason was his inexplicable infatuation with a stranger he saw on the train every morning, the other half was the words that were imprinted on his skin; the first words his soulmate would say to him. They were… ominous.

When Haruka’s absent-mindedness got him into trouble, he had to deal with the unforeseen - but not at all unpleasant - consequences. Or, how getting involved in a car accident became the best thing that ever happened to Haruka.

Word count: 5,370 (total: 80,318) Chapter: 12/32 Chapter summary: Haruka gets his stitches removed and Makoto’s mother arrives in Tokyo.

                                      ------------------------------------------                                 Chapter 12: From Iwatobi, with Love

Come Friday morning, Haruka woke up with a skittish feeling in his stomach for the first time since he met Makoto. While it wasn’t nearly as intense as the jitters that trains and their most handsome rider brought along, the feelings were in the same vein.

In a couple of hours, he had an appointment to get his stitches removed, but he wasn’t dreading that. On the contrary, he was glad to have them taken out. While he didn’t have much experience with getting stitched up, he felt like they’d been embedded in his skin for too long. Unlike Makoto, these stitches were not a joy to have around and had overstayed their welcome.

No, having to go to the doctor was not why he felt this way. It was because today, he was meeting the most important person in Makoto’s life: Makoto’s mother.

Read more on AO3!

[believe-the-lie]

Trying to remember how to post here. Sup.

[blametheeditor]

“Can I hold you?” 

The redhead had almost been confused by the question. Right up until he realized it wasn’t James or Vincent asking, it was David. The same David who’s never poked him or any of the other human guards, any snatch from the floor a calculated pinch of their shirt. 

And while he couldn’t help feeling pride at the business man defaulting to asking instead of just grabbing, there was a much louder “You want to hold me?"

“Would you prefer I picked you up without warning?” David shot back, immediately defensive. “Because you making a big deal out of it is promising a grab next time.” 

“Of course!” was quickly agreed for the original question before a scoff could be made, Fritz jumping to his feet as he motioned for a hand. 

David did scoff, but it was with a hidden smile, a hand obediently placed on the desk palm up. 

Fritz missed the way the hazel eyes widened as he stepped onto the slightly curled fingers. The awed expression as the human simply shifted his stance to keep from losing his balance when one twitched from the odd feeling. The soft look as the redhead walked to the center of the palm with determination before beaming as he looked up. 

"Ta da! Now just don't-” 

Fritz felt panic clench his heart as the hand suddenly lifted, falling back from gravity attempting to keep him in place. Well aware he trusted David enough to wrestle Eggs between the business man’s shoes, but this was much different. Shoes can only hurt you if they moved. A hand can hurt you just by going limp. 

He hadn’t expected narrowed eyes until a triumphant look is given. “You do have freckles.” 

Fritz hesitated. “Did you not know I did?” 

“I’m not exactly on your level, dumbass,” David huffed. “They were invisible up until now.” 

“And you thought I might have them...” 

“Eggs made a bet thinking I’d never be able to confirm.”

[pervypeachdraws]

@avdieo hello i finally delivered

[hells-mansion]

Happy Birthday Mansion ~!!! 🎂 🎉

I hope it's a good and fun day for you!

I'M SUPER LATE TO THIS BUT THANK YOU, LULUKO~!!! IT WAS A WONDERFUL DAY~!!!!

[latenightxtalking]

posting chance update tonight. finally.

[me-william-is-typing]

Sprint - Wanderlust

It was kind of ironic, if Steve thought about it, that their desires to remain unchained to any one spot was what chained them all together. 

The longest Steve had ever stayed in one place was 17 years, in his childhood home. His parents had nurtured him on bedtime stories full of adventures, some borrowed from the rumors and legends of the great travelers from far and wide, and some retellings of their own escapades, back when they were younger and their feet still hadn’t taken root in any one place yet. He’d clutch his favorite blue bedsheets in his tiny hands and watch his mother with nothing short of pure awe as she described the time she and his father were caught by a storm, surrounded on all sides by the monsters of the night with nothing but the clothes on their backs and their worn weaponry in their hands. His parents would tease him, when he grew a little older, about the fat tears that’d well up in his eyes, and how they had to reassure him that they got out fine, see, mommy and daddy are still here—he’d always deny it, of course, and turn away so they couldn’t see the embarrassed flush on his face.

So they’d been a little surprised when Steve finally elected to leave, not to find his own place in the world, but to wander it. He’d been surprised himself. He knew from the stories growing up that he didn’t seek all the excitement that came with adventuring—that only made his heart beat and his stomach twist in an unpleasant way. But he’d never really grown out of the picture books they read to him the way he grew out of their stories. They only grew more complex as time went on, as his interest matured with him.

Simplistic splatterings of colors meant to represent flower fields bloomed into encyclopedias of detailed drawings and diagrams of every flower known to man. The descriptions of the basic biomes became increasingly richer, detailing every variation of each one and what creatures could be found. Even fables of other dimensions became sharper retellings from the few who managed to travel into them and return with their lives. These were the types of books that accumulated in Steve’s bookshelves, year after year, until he felt, finally, that seeing every wonder that the world had to hold would be better than staying cooped up in his room, trying to smell and hear and taste things through a book. 

And that desire to see, more so than his confidence in his own survival, was what finally pushed him to set off on his own.

[defectivegembrain]

Posted a new poem on my writing blog

https://howdoiword.wordpress.com/2022/12/13/pixelated-people/