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#I'll likely be THIRTY YEARS OLD when I post again
roosterforme · 28 days
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How Old Are You? | Bob Floyd x OC
Summary: Bob only gets one birthday every four years. When his wife, Molly, realizes it's almost Leap Day, she throws him a party any nine year old would love. And it's the perfect celebration for a thirty-six year old, too.
Warnings: Fluff, adult language, implied smut, 18+
Length: 2500 words
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC!Molly (this story accompanies The Curveball)
Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!
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Bob was half asleep in bed, post orgasm, when the weird conversation started. "So technically you're about to turn nine? Even though you'll be thirty-six? Is that right?"
He cracked his eyes open again as he watched his wife stretch her arms above her head, her nipple piercings glinting in the soft candlelight that had their bedroom aglow. She was nibbling on her lip, and he could practically see her mind working.
"Yeah," he answered cautiously. "Why do you have that expression on your face, Mo? Like you're plotting something scary?"
"I've never plotted something scary a day in my life!" she told him before leaning down and gently biting his bicep. "I was merely considering what I should get you for your special day."
"I don't need anything," he replied quickly, remembering the naked cowboy statue wearing glasses that she gifted to him last year.
"Well," she said, drawing out the single syllable. "That's where I think you're wrong, Bobby."
"Molly, I don't even want anything." Then he had an idea that he hoped would throw her off. "How about you get some pretty new barbells or rings and let me play with them?"
She rolled her eyes. "That would be a gift for me."
He shrugged as she draped herself across him. "Kind of for both of us when you really think about it."
Her soft lips found his jaw as she whispered, "But it's not every day you turn nine, Coach Cute Glasses. You deserve an extra special treat."
He shook his head in exasperation and said, "I'll really be thirty six though."
"Not according to the calendar." She kissed him sweetly before climbing over him to get out of the bed. "I'll go check on Charlie and Flora one last time before we go to sleep." Bob watched her slip his discarded undershirt on and smooth it down over her gorgeous body, perhaps a little more filled out now that they had two kids.
He reached for her hand and said, "Mo, we really need to sell the condo and get a bigger place. They can't share that tiny room forever."
Even though she told him all the time that she loved the condo and didn't want to leave it, she was finally starting to come around. "I think I'm ready to admit that you might be right about that, Uncle Bob."
"Really?" he asked, jolting up in bed.
She nodded and hummed. "Yes. Besides, your birthday party would be a lot easier to plan if we had more space to accommodate all the guests."
Bob groaned and flopped back down again, and Molly removed his glasses for him. "I don't need a birthday party," he insisted. "I just want a nice, quiet evening with you and the kids. Maybe your sister, Ev and Bradley, too, but that's it."
"We'll see," she replied before leaving the bedroom with a wicked smirk on her face.
----------------------------
"Can you get to my sister's house by noon on your birthday? For your party?" Molly asked as she watched Bob feed a mashed up banana to their one year old daughter. 
"I thought we ended that discussion with us both accepting the fact that I do not need a birthday party."
"Yeah... it's too late for that," she replied easily as she and Charlie both ate their own dinners. Molly's favorite hobby was keeping her husband on his toes. She figured his life would be sad and boring without her in it, and since he chose to be with her, he must have a deep-seated love for nonsense. She always made sure to bring it out for him, especially for his birthday. 
He gave her a stern look. "It's just a small party, right?"
"Sure, Bobby."
"I don't believe you."
"Oh come on," she whined. "This is your first real birthday since we met!"
She knew he would crack. He gave her what she wanted the vast majority of the time anyway, but when she whined for something harmless, it was always hers. 
"Fine."
And with that single word, Molly executed the most epic ninth birthday anyone could ever have. She called the vendors. She ordered the piñata. She invited the guests. She procured a balloon arch. And on Bob's birthday, her own sister and brother-in-law were looking at her with shocked expressions from their back deck when she started setting things up at eight in the morning. 
"I thought this was going to be a small party?" Bradley asked as he watched her assemble the red and yellow balloon arch. 
Molly just laughed. "That's just what I told Bob. I lied. The pony should be arriving soon."
"Pony?" gasped her sister. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard. Did you say a pony is arriving?"
"Yes," Molly said, speaking a little louder now to make her point. "How the hell are we supposed to have a cowboy birthday party without pony rides?"
Then Everett came tearing out onto the back deck, still in his pajamas, shouting, "Someone is bringing a horse around from the driveway!"
"See?" Molly asked as the pony and handler appeared in the backyard. "Ev is excited. He has good taste."
"He's ten!" Bradley snapped as he went running across the yard. "Is this thing going to tear up the grass that I spent months watering so it looked this nice?" But as soon as he saw how excited Everett was to pet the cute animal, Molly knew her brother-in-law would be on her side. It was just her sister glaring at her now.
"Whatever you mess up out here, you need to clean up. That includes the horse poop!"
"It's just a pony," Molly assured her, although the animal was a lot bigger than she expected. And yes, it was actually pooping. "It's fine. It'll be fine."
She was hoping it would be fine.
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When Bob buckled Charlie and Flora back into their car seats in his truck at Myers park, he checked the time. It was almost noon. "Oh god," he groaned as he opened the driver's door. He had no idea what to expect, but the text from Bradley about how he was going to need help filling in the hoof prints in their yard next week had him on edge.
"Birthday party!" Charlie cheered from the backseat as Bob pulled out onto the main road. Molly had been talking about it so much, their son kept saying it over and over.
"That's right," Bob told him calmly. "But I'm pretty sure Mommy went bananas over the entire thing."
"Nana!" Flora crooned before she burst into tears. He should have known better than to mention her favorite food right in front of her like that. So he drove to his sister-in-law and brother-in-law's house with one delighted child and one who was crying hysterically. When he pulled down their block, there was absolutely nowhere to park, and there was a horse trailer parked right in front of the house. 
"Oh, no. No no no. Molly, no," he whispered. When he got closer, he saw the massive banner hanging on the porch that said Happy Birthday, Cowboy Bob. He had to squeeze his truck into the driveway behind the familiar blue Bronco while he gaped at the sight before him.
"Horse!" Charlie screeched. He wasn't wrong. There was some sort of pony walking around the backyard with Everett perched on top of the saddle wearing a cowboy hat. "I want the horse!"
"Okay," Bob told him as he shook his head and climbed out of the truck. He walked around to the back of the house with one child in each arm, and thankfully when Flora saw the pony, she stopped crying, perhaps out of fear. 
"Bob!" Molly shouted over the classic country music that was playing as she popped out of the enormous rodeo themed bounce house and ran to him. Literally everyone he'd ever seen in his life seemed to be here, and they were all wearing cowboy hats. Everyone from work was here. Like everyone. Cyclone was wearing a cowboy hat and drinking a beer. Bob thought he saw the doctor that Molly worked with who delivered both of their children. His parents and both of his sisters were here. His niece Piper was taking a turn riding the pony. There were indeed hoof prints in the yard.
Then Molly was somehow in his arms along with both kids, and she was kissing his neck as she said, "Happy birthday," in a voice that would have been a lot more appropriate for their bedroom. 
"Mo," he said, shaking his head. "There's a pony. It's making Bradley look constipated." 
She just rolled her eyes in response. "He'll get over it as soon as I offer to watch Everett for a few days over spring break so he and my sister can go away and do nasty stuff to each other."
Bob just smiled down at her and said, "You told me this would be a small affair."
"I guess I lied. Oops. Come say hi to Phoenix." She dragged him up onto the deck where Natasha took both kids from him with a kiss to his cheek, and then Molly was yanking his shirt over his head.
"What are you doing?" he asked, standing there in his undershirt with his glasses askew. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, she was pulling another shirt over his head. It said Birthday Cowboy, and there was a number 9 that looked like it was shaped out of rope.
And that's when everyone started hugging him and running around to get him drinks and chat with him. Mickey was wearing cowboy boots and a cow print vest. Maverick was teaching the kids how to line dance. Bradley's scowl had started to ease up since Everett seemed to be having the time of his life. 
"Happy birthday, Uncle Bob," Everett said when he walked over. He hugged Bob and added, "Your birthday party is my favorite birthday party ever, and I can't believe it's in my yard!"
"Thanks, Ev," he replied with a laugh as he watched Molly and Flora dancing with Javy. "It is pretty cool."
"Happy birthday, Bob," his sister-in-law said, handing him a card. "You can open it later. We got you opening day tickets for the Padres. Also, I'm so sorry that my sister is so chaotic, but you should have known what you were getting into when you started dating her."
Bob accepted another kiss on his cheek. "She really can't be stopped once she gets going." 
"It's a waste of time to even try. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show."
He did, and the looser he got, the more fun he started to have. He pet the pony while Piper rode around on it. He smashed open a cowboy piñata with one of Everett's baseball bats. He jumped in the bounce house with Charlie and Everett, and Bradley even joined them.
"I'll help you fix your yard next week," Bob promised as Everett did a backflip. 
Bradley just laughed and said, "It's hard to be mad about it when Molly just wants everyone to have the time of their life. You're very lucky. Also, I don't know how you deal with her on a daily basis."
Bob laughed, too. "Sometimes I just take it one hour at a time."
"Get ready for cake!" Molly shouted, and it took five people to carry out the biggest sheet cake he'd ever seen in his life. It was cow print and decorated with boots and spurs, and said Happy 9th Birthday, Cowboy Bob!
After he blew out the nine candles he reached for Molly. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing her softly. "I didn't know I needed a ninth birthday party, but I guess I really did."
"You're only a kid once, Bobby," she replied, smiling against his lips.
"You do know I'm actually thirty-six, right?" he asked, pulling her snug against him as her sister started to cut up the cake. 
"Not according to the calendar," she responded, patting him gently on the cheek. "Your mom and I had a lovely conversation about how terrible you look for your age."
He tried not to smile, but it was useless. "I'm actually having the best day, Mo."
"I knew it all along."
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Both kids were sound asleep as soon as Molly tucked them into bed. Charlie went on a sugar high and then crashed, and Flora was played with and held by seemingly everyone at the party. They would probably sleep for a solid twelve hours. Which was good, because Molly wanted to give her husband the rest of his birthday presents. 
She found him in their bedroom where he was opening up the cards he got with a soft smile on his face. "You have so many friends," she told him, and he turned to look at her. "Everyone loves Bob Floyd."
He actually blushed which made her want to rip all of his clothing to shreds and have her way with him. He shook his head slightly and said, "Everyone loves the amazing Molly Floyd and her beautiful imagination."
"Bobby," she moaned softly, taking the card from his hand and wrapping her arms around him. "Tell me more about how amazing I am."
He laughed and whispered, "You threw me the equivalent of a kids' ninth birthday party, just because you could. My dad participated in the pie eating contest. My mom learned how to line dance. Bradley almost popped a vein in his forehead. It was wonderful."
She sighed in contentment. "In four more years when you turn ten, we'll be in a bigger house, and we can host your party there. But we'll have to wait and see if you're still into cowboys or if your interests change, Kiddo. Now will you please open your present from me? And put on your cowboy hat? I've always wanted to suck a real cowboy's cock."
Bob grinned. "Molly, you suck my cock when I'm wearing my cowboy hat all the time."
"But you've never had assless chaps before."
Bob let out a strangled sound, and when he opened the box that was wrapped in cowboy paper, there were in fact assless chaps inside. "Please, please, please put them on," Molly moaned. "God, I feel like it's my birthday."
As soon as she started whining, he always gave her what she wanted. It was impossible not to. Five minutes later, Bob was standing in the middle of the bedroom wearing the chaps, his birthday shirt, and his old cowboy hat. Molly was panting and biting her knuckle, already obviously raring to go down on him, which just made him harder.
But she took a step toward him and then stopped, a devilish smirk on his face. "Now wait. I'm having a bit of a moral dilemma with you in that shirt. How old are you again?"
"I'm thirty-six," he replied blandly. 
"You sure about that, Cowboy Bob?"
"Molly! I'm thirty-six!"
"Okay, okay. Just checking," she said, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. "But let's just remove this anyway."
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I had a blast revisiting these two! I'm so deeply in love with Molly. I hope you enjoyed Bob's birthday celebration. Thanks for reading! And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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barcaavengers · 1 year
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Relaxing || Neymar Jr. Imagine || Smut
Note: I am baaaack! The World Cup brought back my Neymar muse and apparently my writing muse. Let's see how long this lasts. This was supposed to end up with his injury but it ended up in smut so....I hope you enjoy it! I'm still rusty since this is the first Imagine I write since...maybe a year or so ago so I apologize in advance.
Tags: Mostly the people that liked my post about this...
@naishaaaaa @champagne-priincess @chrisjevanss @superghostcolorjudge @ilov3sluts @alien-han @hannahzmllr @sofia-123s-things @nobunagas-chatelaine @neffade (some people I was unable to tag for some reason?)
Warning: No plot. Just filthy, horrible smut.
"Get that off your mouth" you scold like a mother to her little kid for chewing on everything. 
"Hm?" But he doesn't look at you. 
"Stop" you tug on his necklace and he spits it out. "Doesn't it taste weird?"
"No…" he is looking at the TV and starts fidgeting with the blanket. 
"Hey," you call and he finally looks at you, "Talk to me."
"Just anxious…" he says with a shrug. He has been watching the replays of some of the games. The closer it got to his games in the World Cup, the more you felt him tense. 
He was still him. Happy, funny, charismatic, but you could see more ahead and notice his little ticks, like chewing on his necklace. 
You place your phone on the night stand and turn to him, reaching for his hand. "Relax, okay? You got this. Your team does." You kiss the inside of his hand and he smiles softly. "Don't throw the world over your shoulder, okay?"
"The fans are expecting so much, and look how things have gone so far…"
"Doesn't mean it would go the same for you guys" you point out. "Yeah, you don't have your bunch of old teammates but the ones you have are doing very well. That's what you told me. You are not the only player." 
"I know…" he runs his hand through his face and the other one tightens around yours. "I'm confident we can win, just not how they expect."
"If you can win, that's what matters" he smiles and tugs your hand so he is now side hovering on top of you making you giggle. "Just relax, baby. Stop watching those replays. They are tensing you" you squeeze his shoulder before running your hand through his hair. "No World Cup hairstyle planned at the last minute?" You tease, just to change the subject. 
"Nah. I think I am old for that."
"Ney, you are thirty" you glare at him. 
"Adult thirty."
"You are still a kid" you hit his shoulder playfully, and he acts hurt. "What? Did I hurt your muscle? Need some pain relief after that?" You joke. 
"Shut up" he playfully struggles to get on top of you, his hands reaching for yours as you try to push him off, but obviously you didn't want to. "Who is thirty now, hm?" He says while you keep squirming under him before he pins them above your head. 
"Youuuu" you drew out and his eyes squint as he laughs. 
God you loved to see him smile and relax. You'd do anything to keep it permanent. 
"Hey" he calls after you two stop playing around. "I need to go soon." He brushes his nose against yours. 
Oh yes. Somehow he managed to sneak out of the team's hotel to stay at yours. 
"I know" you sigh and your bodies relax against one another. He shifts his weight so he is now resting his head on your chest and your arms go around him. "Remind me again how you will sneak back in?"
"Secret" he mutters as he snuggles. 
"Mhm" you hum and run your fingers through his hair. "I love you, Ney" you mutter, "Whatever happens…I'll be here" you assure him. You knew his little insecurity of not being good enough for someone to stay with him through everything. You wanted to assure him that you'd always be there. And he secretly loved it when you blurted it out of the blue. 
"Thank you, princess" you feel him smile and he shifts his weight and kisses the exposed skin of your chest. You were wearing a simple sleepwear dress with spaghetti straps, so they would slip around every now and then so he took advantage of it. "I love you too" he looks up at you.  
"Wanna play some COD to distract yourself?"
"Nah, I'll wait for the glitches to go away on the next update" he shrugs and then he looks at you, hazel green eyes turning dark.
Oh no. 
"No" you say firmly. 
"What?!" He sounds offended. 
"I know that look Da Silva. Answer is no."
"What look?!" He pretends to hide it, but he is getting a cheeky grin. 
"You know!"
"I swear I'm not doing anything! Just loving on my girl!" He says, yet his lips press closer to the top of your breast. 
"No!"
"Okay, then, why not?"
"We can't…before the match."
"Myth" he says and shifts so he is now facing you from on top. "You don't have to do anything. Just-"
"You have to go or it will get late" you have to be strong or this one can convince you to do anything. 
"It would help me relax" he grins, you glare at him. "You know that actually helps me" he says in his defense. And then he does the eye thing….those beautiful hazel eyes just shining…
"Okay but that's it. Nothing else. I'm serious."
"I know" he grins, pushing himself on his forearms to reach your lips and kiss you.
The way his lips moved against yours so softly was something you'd never get tired of. His lips enclosing around your bottom lip, his tongue peaking teasingly as he smiled. He knew what he was doing. 
One of his hands moves to cup under your chin, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss and his tongue meets yours and, the habit he had, of pulling away a few inches and licking your lips. Weird, but for some reason you found it…hot. 
He moves to your neck, kissing down with a little nip in a few spaces making you squirm. His hand on your neck drops to your shoulders, his fingertips brushing your skin as he pulls the straps of your dress down your shoulder so his next move was comfortable. He pulls down the front of your dress and looks up at you, his eyes finding yours. 
He pulls the front lower until one of your breasts is exposed. His thumb brushes against your nipple, tugging at it to get its attention. You bite your lip and he smirks before leaning down. His tongue comes out to flick on it, once, then twice, then repeatedly. Your fingers move around his hair soothingly, eyes closing to enjoy the feeling of his wet tongue flickering over your nipple, his hand moving to grope gently on the other one making you hum in pleasure. You feel him stop and your eyes flutter open enough to see him licking his own lips, looking up at you and shifting his body to the side before taking your nipple between his lips again. 
Your head falls back at the sensation,  feeling his lips suck on your nipple as he gropes harder on your other breast making you moan. The view of him with messy hair, shirtless and sucking on your breast was just a sight for you. You swear you could cum right there and then. He pulls away from that one, giving it a flick with his tongue to move to the other one. He let's go of your breast and slides his hand to your thigh, slowly pulling up the end of your dress and sneaking his hand into your underwear. 
His finger is quick to find your wetness and he grunts against your breast. He covers his index finger in your wetness before moving it to your clit and you gasp when he touches it. "Ney…" you breathe out, tugging slightly on his hair. He continues to move it around, playing with your wetness that was now starting to move down your thigh. 
"Shhh" he whispers. "I got you" and with that his finger slips inside of you and your lips part. His finger moves around slowly, massaging your walls and pulling out to collect some more. "So wet for me, princess…" he hums and pulls his hand out of your panties and brings his finger to your lips which you part to taste yourself. "Shit…" he grunts as your tongue moves around his finger. "That's my girl…See how good you taste…" 
He pulls his finger out and slips it in your underwear again, this time using two fingers to collect your wetness, but not without teasing you. He presses against your bundle of nerves and starts rubbing on it rapidly, making your hips buck. "Oh….yes…" you gasp and arch your back. 
"Come on, baby. Let me have you…" he whines. "You are so wet…" he slips his finger out again and puts it in his mouth, moaning around his finger and you watch him as he savors you. "So good…" You can feel yourself getting wetter by just looking at him. 
You shift your position so you are facing him since he is on his side, reaching between your bodies to reach for his hard on that was already poking on your thigh. He pushes his shorts down, raising his hips and tugging on them. "We have to be quick…" you rush. As much as you wanted to enjoy him, he had to be at the hotel at a certain time and it was already close. You didn't want to get him in any trouble. 
He reaches around your waist and grabs onto your butt cheek, pulling you close to him. You reach for your dress, trying to take it off by almost sitting up but Neymar had other plans. He reached for your waist and pulled you on top of him. "Better? That way I don't use too much energy" he winks at you. 
"You are unbelievable" you smirk and lean down to kiss him. Your lips moving against his plump ones in a heated kiss. His hands reach for your butt, running his hands around it before pulling on the hem of the dress and bringing it slightly up so it was exposed. He bites onto your lip before giving you a slap on your rear making your eyes widen. "Really?"
"What? This?" He slaps your rear again and you hiss, your heat now rubbing against his hard on through your underwear. "You love it", another one and your teeth catch the corner of your lip. You don't say anything, just move your body to the right position so you can start moving your hips against his own. Your forehead rests against his as you raise your hips and bring them down, repeating the movement back and forth.
Neymar didn't seem to find what to do with his hands. They were roaming all over your body, touching every curve, gripping on your waist as you moved against him, helping you move exactly the way he wanted to so you wouldn't tease. "Princess…" the way his voice sounded so deep turned you on. He holds your waist with one hand to stop your moves, using his free to move your underwear to the side. You fix your posture to sit on him as he uses the hand on your waist to hold his cock up so you could sink down. 
You take him in slowly, inch by inch, savoring how good the friction was of him as he slid through your walls. Your eyes were closed, lips pressed together, one hand holding yourself up on his chest and the other one holding your hair back. A grunt leaves his lips once he is, and you both stay still for a moment. 
Neymar lets your dress drop and reaches for the hand on his chest, interlocking your fingers together and reaching for the other one, doing the same. Your hips start moving slowly forward, his hands steadying you as you do. His hazel green eyes looked at your body with lust as you moved on him. 
And damn did he look so good like this. His skinny arms extended out to you as he held your hands, his hips swiftly moving every now and then searching for that spot that he knew would make you reach your high faster. He just knew your body. 
And you knew his. You know how much he loves when you leave a trail of kisses starting from his neck down to the waistband of whatever he was wearing. His earlobe was a weak spot for him, even with his earrings, you'd bite and tug at it and he would let out a soft moan that would drive you crazy. 
You start bouncing on his lap. Every sit down echoing through the room, and it drove you to cloud nine when you closed your eyes and focused on it. He lets go of your hands and reaches for your hips, helping you move as you use your knees to push yourself up, throwing your head back as your boyfriend found the right spot. 
"Right there?" He asks and you can only nod your head, running a hand through your hair to push it back, the other one searching for the hem of your dress and once it does you pull it off, Neymar helping. Then in a matter of seconds, you are on your back, Neymar pushing deep into you and staying still as he moves to rest on his forearms. "Hey."
"Hi" you grin and he chuckles. He kisses your forehead, then the bridge of your nose before snapping his hips against you hard and you gasp. "Fuck…" 
"I know, baby" he mutters, his hand reaching for your hair and pulling at it harshly making your back arch as he starts setting the pace. Your legs were wide open to have him in between and the way he was positioned was making your joints burn a little, but it was a different kind of burn. The way he slid in and out of you due to your wetness was giving him all the green lights to thrust into you from any way he wanted. 
He sat up and pulled you closer by your legs so you were almost resting on his. He held onto them and started thrusting again making you moan louder in pleasure. Your body felt on fire as he did, no matter how hard he pulled at your hair when he thrusted. He knew you liked it anyway, and he never pulled hard enough that you couldn't handle.
One leg he moves to rest on his shoulder, he moves to hover over your other one before thrusting quickly into you, his eyes closing as he licked his lips. "Don't stop…" you pant as you start feeling yourself tighten around him and feeling that familiar throb. His hand reaches for one of your breasts, holding onto it as he continued his moves. Your back arches when he starts playing with your nipple, tugging and running his forefinger around it. 
Your own hands are holding on to the side of his thigh while the other one tugs at the bedsheet underneath you. "You close, baby?" Neymar asks between breaths and your head nods. He stops his moves and quickly changes positions, hand on your waist and he moves you so you are laying upside down, your knees moving under you before Neymar positions you. He could be bossy without saying anything, he would just handle you and place you however he wanted. 
Your boyfriend finds his rhythm again while you are trying your best to hold yourself up, and he was holding you by your hip, but his thrusts were too powerful, even making the bed squeak under you. They were turning erratic, his groans getting mixed with your moans as they got louder when he found your spot. He took advantage of it and repeatedly reached it, changing the angle for it. "Fuck!" You couldn't hold back the curses coming from you at this point. Your walls tighten around him, feeling his cock throbbing against them. He pushes you so you are laying down flat, you feel him lay on top of you as he keeps his movements. His tongue runs on your neck before biting at it and kissing it, then your earlobe where he whispers between pants how good you are taking him and that he was close with that tone filled with lust. 
A few more thrusts and your toes are curling when it is too much, knuckles turning white from holding tightly onto the sheets as you find your release with a cry of pleasure. One of his hands gives up and lands on top of yours, holding tightly on top of it as he gives you a final thrust and you feel his warmth inside of you, his moan going right into your ear. 
After a few seconds, he kisses under your ear and chuckles. "So much for not using too much energy, huh?" You tease as your face turns to the side. 
"You said we had to be quick, you were teasing" he kisses your cheek before raising himself from on top of you and sitting up, smacking your rear before rolling off. 
"I was not" you say defensively as you turn on your back and push your hair off your sweaty face. 
"Yeah yeah" he mocks as he holds his hands out for you. "Need help getting up?" He gives you a side smirk and you fill your eyes before taking his hands and he pulls you up, quickly bending down to pick you up. "I can't see you tomorrow" he says as he carries you to the bathroom. 
"Glad we got that clear" you nod your head. 
"Or maybe I could just-"
"No. No maybes" you say firmly.
"Fine" he puts you down in the shower before turning on the water, which came out as cold as the Arctic.
"Neymar!" You gasp and he just laughs before you take his hand and pull him to you. 
He is laughing and squirming, trying to get away from the cold water and reaching to change it but between your fits of laughter he couldn't. And that was enough for you to know that you have distracted him and that he was letting go of the tension, and you wish to keep it that way. 
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Okay. Let's talk, QSMPblr, because I want to talk.
The Brazilian side of this fandom is actually insane. If nobody else has said it yet (which I highly doubt, but I'll put it out there anyway), then I will.
You guys are some of the smartest, most die-hard, committed fans I've met. And you're insanely positive, which might seem like a weird thing to say, but I feel like I've seen it anyway. On that note.
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I've talked about this fanfiction in the past, so if you saw that post, you'll know what I'm getting into here. But I want to delve into this a bit more.
'The Reason' by Nan_Yelo is the most kudosed work of fanfiction in Brazilian Portuguese, period. It is in a fandom that has only existed since March of 2023, up against the translated version of the most kudosed fanfiction on AO3 (All the Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 translated into All the Young Dudes by wolfuckingstar) and multiple other fandoms and fanfictions that have existed far, far longer. Every time I find the fanfic again, I am continuously flabbergasted that it got to where it was.
However, its placement in kudos is not its only astonishing accomplishment. I've talked about it's kudos. I've lamented and waxed poetry about its kudos until the night turned to day and I reached my mental QSMP limit (which is astonishingly high, might I say). But the kudos are not the only place where 'The Reason' has done astonishingly well.
Clocking in 88,844 words, 128 comments (including one of my own, awkwardly gushing about the fanfiction in English because my Portuguese can let me say the word 'cheese' and 'I don't speak Portuguese, sorry'), 143 bookmarks, 35,035 hits, and probably most notably, 1,628 kudos, 'The Reason' is honestly a record-breaking fanfiction in more ways than one.
It is about a fandom that has only existed since March of 2023, and about a duo that really only came around in April of that same year.
It is the tenth most kudosed fanfiction under the QSMP tag, which I think is actually insane. Officially, the QSMP has thirty-four streamers displayed on its members page, plus Quackity's Spanish channel and the straight up QSMP streaming account. Of this five are Brazilian. Slightly more than 1/7th of the total streamers. One former member was also Brazilian, so adding them into the mix would bump that number up to 6/35, or a bit more than 17%. Not half, not a quarter, not even a fifth of the total number of streamers.
And despite this fact, in spite of this fact, fanfiction about the Brazilian members of the QSMP has been some of the most popular in the fandom.
That out of the way, not only is 'The Reason' the most kudosed Brazilian Portuguese fanfiction, it is also the most kudosed Portuguese fanfiction period.
Compare it to the most kudosed European Portuguese fanfiction available to a user logged in on AO3, 'E Depois do Adeus (And After Goodbye)' by Palacios_Modernos.
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244 kudos, and the most kudosed European Portuguese fanfiction. Then look at 'The Reason'. 1,628, meaning that 'The Reason' is the singular most kudosed fanfiction in any type of Portuguese published on AO3. (I have checked Uncategorized Constructed Languages and the other language tabs for any other registered types of Portuguese, and none exist, meaning that European Portuguese and Brazilian Portuguese are the only two out there to look at).
It is the second most bookmarked fanfiction in Brazilian Portuguese, at 143 bookmarks, which is only 15 below the most bookmarked fanfiction in Brazilian Portuguese (Rainha de Sothoryos by MarVermelho), which has has less than half the kudos and 10,000 less hits.
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Comparing these two fanfictions to the most bookmarked fanfiction in European Portuguese, which clocks in at 33, this can also claim its title as the second most bookmarked fanfiction in Portuguese period.
And when it comes to hits, 'The Reason' clocks in at fourth out of all Portuguese fanfiction available to a user signed into AO3.
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This fanfiction is six months old, part of a fandom that has been around since March of 2023, up against three fanfictions from Harry Potter, a franchise that has been around for decades (yeah, I'm going there, I'll make everyone feel old if I feel like it). And it is genuinely record breaking in every definition of the word.
Is this post long as fuck? Yes. Is it entirely deserved? Absolutely.
Go read it, because 'The Reason' is actually insane. It has been fully translated into English and partially translated into Spanish as of February 19th, 2023, and it's honestly beautiful.
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atlafan · 4 months
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1963 - Part 1
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a/n: I have been dying to share this with yall and I'm so excited to finally be doing that. As per usual, this is the only part that will be posted here on Tumblr.All other parts will be posted on Patreon. In fact, Part 2 is already up! And Part 3 will be posted Friday.
Please consider joining my Patreon. It's only $5 a month, and it charges you the following month on the date you joined. So, if you signed up today, you wouldn't get charged again until January 10th. I post 2-4 times per month. If anything is under 10K words, that's usually when I'll post more. I depend on this extra income to help pay bills for essentials. The community there is also incredible and I write and post some of my nastiest smut on there, so if that's what you're looking for, you'll get it!
Warnings: mentions of infertility
Words: 3.8K
Patreon I Patreon Masterlist I Tumblr Masterlist I Ask
“Every month I keep hoping I’ll have different news for you two,” Doctor Simmons sighed, “unfortunately, I have the same news. Beverly still isn’t with child.”
“We’ve been trying for five months, we’ve been doing everything you’ve said. Beverly drinks the teas, she lays with her legs up after we’re done, I don’t know what else we can do.” Robert was exasperated at this point. He was squeezing his wife’s hand, desperately trying not to let any tears escape his eye ducts.
“You two have exhausted all natural remedies, so I think it’s time we consider IVF.”
Beverly’s eyes widened, and she squeezed Robert’s hand back. She looked at him, panicked.
“Beverly is terribly afraid of needles.”
“You don’t need to decide on anything right now. Take these pamphlets and look over the information. If you two want to have a baby of your own, then this may be the next step.”
“We’ll look it over and have an answer by our next appointment.”
Robert and Beverly are silent on the drive home from the doctor’s office. They’re silent on their way back into their home. Beverly goes right to the kitchen to get started on dinner. Robert comes up next to her and puts her hand over hers.
“We should read the literature on IVF.” He said.
“I have friends who have done it, and all it has done is make their hormones crazy, and not in a fun way. I really don’t want to, Robert. I’ve done everything else, please don’t make me do this.”
“It feels like sometimes I’m the only one who wants to have a baby.”
“How could you say something like that to me? If I’m infertile-“
“You’re not, though. Doctor Simmons has run every type of blood test on you.”
“I know, I was there when the nurse was drawing it after you accused me of secretly taking birth control pills.”
“Well, with how apprehensive you were about having your diaphragm removed, I had to make sure you weren’t doing any self-sabotage.”
“Maybe I’m not getting pregnant because my body knows you don’t trust me.”
“I do trust you, you just weren’t exactly thrilled to start trying.”
“You sprung it on me, I was surprised. We never really discussed having kids before we got married.”
“Sweetheart, why would two people get married if not to have kids?” He chuckled.
“That’s not why I married you. I married you because I love you and I want to be with you.”
“I love you and want to be with you too. But if I hadn’t wanted kids, we could have just shacked up in an apartment in the city. I bought us a house in the suburbs so you could keep house and raise our kids. You like being a housewife, you’ve told me as much.”
“I do. I like making your meals and keeping things tidy, but I also like my free time. I like to go have brunch with the other ladies, and I like going to the library to check out new film analysis journals, and I like being able to go to the movies in the middle of the day. Having a baby means I can’t do those things anymore. At least, not until it’s old enough to go to school. That’s five solid years I’d be putting on hold. And within that five years, I could have at least two more kids. So, now I’m thirty-one with three kids under the age of five, and oh yeah, I’ll still be expected to keep the house clean and cook all your meals and pleasure you even though everything between my legs will feel like sandpaper.”
Robert eyes his wife, then puckers his lips in thought. “Is that how you’ve really been feeling? You haven’t said a word.”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you. You’re not easy to talk to these days. Every time I reach for my clip-belt for my sanitary napkins, I can see you watching with such sadness in your eyes. Motherhood is scary. My friends tell me these horror stories about childbirth. Their husbands barely take a week off from work to be home with them and the baby. So, we’re expected to push these kids out, then get up the next day and get back to our usual routines.”
“Beverly, you’re worried about things women have been doing since the beginning of time. Don’t be such a child. The fear of needles I can understand, but the fear of being a mother makes no sense. I know you and your mother have a strained relationship, but that doesn’t mean history will repeat itself.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “If we’re not pregnant by our next appointment with Doctor Simmons, then I would like us to start IVF. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Good.” He looked at the ingredients on the counter and grimaced. “I don’t want meatloaf tonight, make something else instead.”
“Yes, dear.”
“I’m gonna go to my office, have a beer, and listen to the ball game. Let me know when dinner is on the table.”
“Yes, dear.”
Robert smiled, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and walked out of the kitchen. Beverly took a deep breath and rummaged through her cabinets to see what else she could possibly whip up for dinner. It needs to be something heavy enough that Robert won’t feel like making love before bed. Beverly doesn’t have it in her to put on a performance tonight.
**
Most people get married to have kids. Beverly married Robert because she loved him. He wanted to take care of her. But when the honeymoon phase ended, and he stopped saying thank you to her for all of the things she did to take care of him, she grew resentful. She never let on about it. Robert didn’t need to know how she really felt. Opening up the way she did the day prior wasn’t normal. Things had been good between them for a long time. Beverly didn’t mind stepping into the role of a stay-at-home wife. She was college educated, but it wasn’t like she’d ever be able to carry a position in the profession of her desire. And since she didn’t want to be a schoolteacher or a nurse, Robert asked her to stay home to tend to the house he had bought for them.
At twenty-three, she really hadn’t minded. They met in college, as so many young couples do, and it was love at first sight. Their courtship was disgustingly romantic, and their wedding was a dream come true. The honeymoon phase was so sickly sweet. Beverly enjoyed making breakfast for Robert before he left for work. She enjoyed sending him on his way. She had the whole day to herself. She’d tend to her various gardens, and she’d make sure the house was clean. She’d meet up with friends for brunch. She did everything a good wife was supposed to do.
At twenty-six, Beverly feels like she’s on autopilot. She can’t help but wonder if the reason why older couples have designated sex nights is because the wives must need the six days in between to psych themselves up. She also can’t help but wonder if this is why so many older couples opt for twin beds that can be pushed together or pulled apart.
And it’s not that Beverly doesn’t want kids, she thinks it could be fun, but she’s petrified of essentially raising a child by herself. Robert will stroll in from work, bounce the baby on his knee for all of two minutes, and call it a night. She’s scared for all the reasons she tried to explain the day prior. Robert also didn’t give Beverly a choice five months ago…
“I was thinking of maybe enrolling in graduate school.” Beverly brought up one morning over breakfast. Robert had nearly choked on his toast. “I know what you’re thinking, but you wouldn’t have to pay for a thing. They have stipends for students. I could teach while I learn.”
“I thought you didn’t want to teach.”
“I didn’t want to teach children, but something about having high level discussions with college students makes teaching sound like fun. I miss being in school.”
“What’s the point of a graduate degree in film and media? It’s not like you can do anything with it.”
“A graduate degree could lead to a doctorate, and I could keep teaching. I know female professors are few and far between, especially in the world of film, but it is possible.”
“So, you want to be a career woman, is that what you’re saying?”
“Not exactly. Classes wouldn’t take up all my time. I’d still be able to cook and clean and do everything I’m doing now. Except now when I go to the library, I’ll be doing schoolwork instead of reading for leisure.”
“Seems like you have it all figured out already.”
“Well, I wanted to show you I had thought it all through, that I was serious. You got your graduate degree. If you hadn’t, we never would have met.”
“Exactly. What if some older professor comes on to you? You’d have no way to protect yourself.”
“Oh, Robert, I’ve gone this long without something horrible happening to me on a college campus, I think I’d be fine. Besides, all I’d need to do is show off the lovely rings on my finger.” She grinned. “No one would mess with a married woman whose husband can afford a diamond like this.”
“Did you already sign up for a course?”
“Of course not. I wanted to speak with you first.”
“Good.” He finished his breakfast. “Let me think on it.”
“Alright. Anything in particular you want for dinner tonight?”
“Actually, I was thinking we could go out tonight. I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
“Oh? For what?”
“Does a husband need a reason to treat his wife to a romantic evening?”
“No.” She giggled. “I’m just excited at the prospect of a spontaneous date night. I’ll pick out a dress I haven’t worn in a while, so it feels like new.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” He stood and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll call you before I leave work, so you’ll know when to expect me.”
“Okay, have a good day, dear.”
Beverly was excited. A night out was a positive sign. Robert wouldn’t take her out just to give her bad news. He was going to say yes to her going back to school.
The restaurant Robert took Beverly to was ritzy. He danced with her, ordered an expensive bottle of wine, and kissed on her shoulder and neck while he sat next to her in their booth. That sickly sweet feeling Beverly thought might be gone was sparking again. When the cheesecake came out, they fed each other bites. It was adorable.
“Are you having a good time tonight?” He asked.
“Yes, this has been such a wonderful evening. Thank you for taking me here.”
“You’re welcome, Bev.” He put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately, and our conversation this morning was the kick in the pants I needed, so I’m really glad you brought up graduate school.”
“I’m glad it was a positive conversation.” She smiled. “What’s been on your mind?”
“I think it’s time we started trying for a baby.” All of the color drained from Beverly’s face, but her smile never wavered. She couldn’t let on how disappointed she was. “You’re clearly bored with the amount of free time on your hands. I know school seemed like a fun thing to do to pass the time, but I think we’ve waited long enough. We’ll be married almost four years soon, I think we know what we’re doing in the bedroom by now. So, next week, I’m taking you to the doctor to have your diaphragm removed-“
“You called my doctor about something like that?”
“I know it’s a bit awkward, but it’s not a secret that you have one. I went with you when you got it, I should be with you when you have it taken out.”
“Robert…I don’t like that it feels like you’re not giving me a choice. What if I’m not ready?”
“It’s not that you don’t have a choice, I’m just stating that it’s time. You take care of me just fine, you’ll be a great mother. This is what I would rather you do than go back to school. Besides, think of the fun we’ll have while we’re working at it. I got excited at work today thinking about it. I was hoping tonight could be a test run.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I love you so much, Bev, I wanna turn that love into a physical being.”
“Yeah, um, that makes perfect sense. Let’s…let’s make a baby.”
“Really?” He asked, elated.
“Yes, dear.”
Robert kissed his wife. He kissed her in the car. He kissed her on the way into their home, up the stairs, and into their bedroom. He made love to his wife, then called it a night.
After getting her diaphragm removed, they waited until after her next period was done to start trying. This gave Beverly plenty of time to figure out how she could avoid pregnancy. She needed to keep some semblance of control over her own body. Robert wasn’t going to tell her when she was ready. She could decide that on her own.
Lysol douching didn’t work, she knew this. Her sister told her as much. Some of her friends offered her their birth control pills, but she knew they’d show up on a blood test, which Robert made sure she had after the second month of her still not having gotten pregnant. Beverly may have studied film, but she was an excellent student in biology and chemistry as well. She knew how condoms worked. They were coated in spermicides. She just needed to figure out how to coat her vagina with it. She bought condoms and squeezed all of the lubricant and spermicide off them and got a good amount into a bottle. She mixed it with olive oil, what ancient Greeks used to use, and douched with that before having sex with Robert. She knew it would be a long shot if it worked, but she had to try.
When the third month came along, and she still wasn’t pregnant, she took solace is knowing her little concoction was working. And because Robert never went down on her, he’d never smell or taste a thing. When he used his fingers, he just thought she was extra wet, which made him feel proud of himself.
She was perfectly content with her plans until the topic of IVF came up. Even the harshest of solutions couldn’t stand up to IVF injections. She never felt bad for lying to Robert because she didn’t like that he had become so controlling, but she also didn’t think she’d be doing this for so long. The thought of her giving her body up didn’t sound any more appealing five months later.
What was she going to do?
**
“I really think that one is gonna be a winner.” Robert sighed happily as he relaxed into the bed, looking over at Beverly as she lay with her legs in the air. “I’m glad we waited a couple of days in between, feels like my boys swam stronger.”
“Yes, dear.” Beverly closed her eyes and tried to breathe steadily, counting down the minutes until she could go use the bathroom and cleanse herself.
“I had an idea today. I really want to spare you from having to be injected with needles. I’m a good husband, and good husbands protect their wives. So, since we have about five weeks until our next appointment, I thought we could try one last natural method.”
“I’m listening.” She turned her head to look at him, intrigued.
“I overheard some ladies talking in the break room this morning. It’s the one good thing about having so many female secretaries. Anyways, they happened to be discussing various issues with conceiving. One of them said they had a friend who got pregnant the second she and her husband stopped focusing so much on it. The wife threw herself into different projects, and a month or so later, she was pregnant.”
“Wait.” She sat up on her elbows. “Are you saying I can enroll in a graduate course after all?”
“What, no.” He laughed. “No, I was thinking we could finally redo the patio and have that pool you’ve wanted put in. You’ve been talking about wanting to host more parties for our friends. You always do so well with the workers when we have something done here, and you love gardening. I think you’d really enjoy overseeing a landscaping project.”
“Let me get this straight: you would rather pay thousands of dollars to have our backyard redone, than pay a couple of hundred for me to enroll in a course?”
“I think school would be too stressful. If you’re stressed, then you definitely won’t conceive. Overseeing a project that puts you outside in the sun will be a win-win. Not to mention an old friend of mine is willing to give us a deal on the work.”
“You have a friend that’s a landscaper?”
“Yeah, this guy from my old neighborhood took over his father’s business. He said he could swing by Saturday to take a look at things.”
“It sounds like you’ve already decided that this is what we’re doing.”
“That’s because I have.” He grinned proudly. “Bev, when we got married, I promised to take care of you. This is me taking care of you. Not all husbands would do something like this for their wives. You could at least pretend to be grateful.”
“I am grateful, I’m sorry if my tone suggested otherwise. What time Saturday is he coming over?”
“That I left up to you. I didn’t know if you had any errands or plans with the ladies.”
“Oh.” Well, at least he was trying to be considerate. “Maybe around three? That would give me time to pick up the dry cleaning and stop at the market.”
“Three is perfect. I’ll give him a call tomorrow to let him know.” He looked down at his watch. “You should be good to use the bathroom now.”
“Yes, dear.” Beverly lowers her legs and slings her robe on. Once she’s in the bathroom, she locks the door and flips on the fan. She rummages around in the back of the sink-cabinet until she finds her douching solution. She used some prior to having sex with her husband, but she likes to use it after for good measure. She bites into the heel of her palm as she cleanses herself. It tends to sting from time to time. When she’s done, she looks at herself in the mirror. She knows she can’t keep doing this to herself. She just doesn’t know what else to do.
**
Beverly loves her weekend clothes. There’s something so freeing about slipping on a pair of high-waist capris, a sleeveless button-up that ties in the front, and a pair of flats. She usually gardens after running her errands, and this is what she typically wears to garden. Robert hates it when Beverly wears pants, or anything form fitting, in public. Why should anyone else be privy to how round her bum is, or how full her thighs are? She’s got a body like Marilyn’s, and that’s something he prefers to keep under wraps.
When the landscaping van pulls up out front, Beverly is in the front yard, planting and mulching. She has the radio going, so she doesn’t pay any mind to the sound of an engine turning off. The man in the landscaping van tilted his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, getting a better glimpse of Beverly. Robert starts walking over, so the man gets out of his van, rounding it to meet his old friend.
“Harry.” Robert smiled and shook the man’s, Harry, hand. “Can you believe it? Got a nice house in a suburb just like the one we grew up in.”
“I never doubted you’d get everything you wanted.” Harry smiled back.
“Seems like the Navy treated you well.”
“Yeah, I can’t complain too much. I didn’t get blown up or lose a limb.”
“And now you own your father’s business. Sorry for your loss, by the way. That’s the drawback of inheritance.”
“Yep. You working for your father?”
“Yes, and proud of it. I’ve got an office with a view, and I can afford to live more than comfortably. Got a beautiful wife, too.” Robert looked around. “Beverly, c’mere!” Beverly stood and dusted off her trousers before making her way over to the two men. “Harry, this is my Beverly.” He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Clark.”
“Likewise, Mr…”
“Styles.” He points behind him with his thumb. “Of Styles Landscaping.”
“Right, of course.”
“Your husband told me you were hoping to have some work done in the backyard.”
“Yes, we’d like the patio redone and to have a pool put in, if possible.”
“Let’s show Harry to the back.” Robert said as he led his wife to the back. Harry followed close behind.
As Beverly observes Harry observing her yard, she can’t help but feel confused. How is this man a friend of Robert’s? Harry’s t-shirt is stretched tight over his chest, not to mention how beefy and muscular his biceps are. His arms are also littered with tattoos.
It takes about twenty minutes for Harry to look around, take some measurements, and get a feel for the land.
“Alright, I can come back on Tuesday with some different mockups of what can be done back here. I can bring my portfolio too, so you can look at some of my past projects. Does Tuesday work for you, Mrs. Clark? I’m assuming you’ll be the one home.”
“Yes, the early afternoon works for me, Mr. Styles.”
“Perfect.” Robert clapped his hands. “H, come in for a bit. We can have a couple beers and catch up while Bev does her gardening out front.”
“Sounds good to me.” Harry nodded, and Robert started to make his way inside. For a split second, Harry tilted his sunglasses down to look at Beverly. “It was nice meeting, Mrs. Clark.” He winked and smirked before catching up with Robert.
Beverly felt her cheeks heat up. She turned and watched Harry walk into her home. Why did he wink at her like that? And why did it make her feel like she just got a B-12 shot?
She shook it off and made her way out front. Gardening will help her clear her head. She’s a married woman. A friend of Robert’s wouldn’t flirt with a married woman…would he?
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southerngirl41 · 10 months
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The Lonliest
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Seth Rollins x Lulu (OC)
Featuring: Roman Reigns (Joe) and Jimmy Uso (Jon) *I'll be using their real names*
**Warnings: This story deals with the death of a child (mentions) grief, loss and thoughts of suicide. Please read with caution.**
I'm always nervous about posting a new story, especially a sad one. For that reason I've had this one sitting in my drafts for a while. Please let me know what you think. I'll have the second part posted tomorrow. 🩷
Tag list: Tag Squad: @mohawkmama @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl @cyberdejos2 @sunflower-leigh @harlem11680 @thesamoanqueen @jstarr86 @vibessonvibes @harmshake @christinabae @stardust181 @iluvthebloodline @alyyaanna
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Part 1 of 2:
“Lulu, I just wanna talk to you for a minute, please.” He begged, grabbing her hand to keep her from walking away. “I can’t do this with you again!” she says, jerking her hand from his grasp. By some cruel twist of faith, he had been drafted to the same brand that she was working on as a commentator. This was the first time they had seen or spoken to one another since the day their daughter's casket was lowered into the ground two years ago. “Lulu, please. I’m begging you to please talk to me.” She stepped back, squaring up with him, “I have nothing to say to you Colby.”
Defeated, he slammed his fist into the wall as she walked away. Again.
He hoped that after being moved to the same brand that he might have a chance at reconciliation, but she wouldn't even have a conversation with him. Maybe it was the venue he chose; work really wasn't the best place to have this type of conversation after all.
“She still won't talk to you?”
Colby turned at the sound of his friend Joe’s voice. The two friend’s shared more than just a friendship, they once partnered together, traveled together and lived on the road together. That’s where Colby met Lulu, she was Joe’s cousin and a sister to Jon and Josh, the Uso’s. Their attraction was immediate, the two quickly fell in love and were married six months later.
He ran a shaky hand through his long black hair, “I don't blame her. Some wounds never heal, man.”
Joe patted him on the shoulder, “Just give her some time. She’s been seeing a therapist and at least trying to… cope.” Joe knew she’d most likely kill him for telling Colby but he felt his friend had a right to know. “I gotta get ready for the show, we’ll talk later.” Joe says, leaving his friend alone in the empty hallway.
Lulu sat alone in a small dark corner of the arena, hidden away from the rest of the world. She knew this day would come eventually but didn’t know it would be so soon, if you can call two years soon.
She angrily wiped the tears from her face as a set of footsteps grew closer. She tried to gather her composure, the last thing she needed was for someone to see her, a grown thirty two year old woman crying alone in the dark. “Lu?” she heard Joe calling down the hallway. Relieved, she relaxed against the cold cinder block wall. “Back here.” she says, quietly. He peeks around the corner, seeing her sitting on a wooden crate. “I figured you’d be hiding somewhere.” her older cousin says, putting an arm around her and pulling her in close. “How am I gonna do this Joe? I- I don't think my heart can take it.” she whispers, wiping fresh tears from her eyes. “I think I'm gonna quit. I’ll ask Paul for my release, find something else to do with my life.” she rambles.
Joe sighed, knowing she would react this way, every time someone mentioned her Ex-husband’s name or brought up the subject she would dive straight off the deep end. “Take a deep breath and calm down. There’s no need to make any rash decisions right now.”
Lulu let out a deep breath she'd been holding, “How am I supposed to call his match when I can’t stand to even hear his fucking name much less see him!”
Joe stood up, pulling her to her feet, “Because you are the strongest woman that I've ever known and you can do incredible things when you put your mind to it. You’re just gonna have to do like I do and step outside yourself and become another person for the night. You can do this darlin’."
Lulu took her seat at ringside next to the veteran commentator Michael Cole, putting her headset on and straightening her notes. “You gonna be alright?” Michael asked sweetly. Everyone in the WWE and the world for that matter knew about the situation between the two ex-spouses, which made it a thousand times harder. “I guess we’ll find out.” she replies bitterly as the show starts.
Somehow she held it together as his music started to play, gripping the edge of the desk, her hands shaking as she watched him dance down the entrance ramp, the crowd singing along with his music. Everyone fucking loved him and it made her sick. But she knew she would have to look up and commentate as soon as the ring announcer Samantha finished the introductions.
Time seemed to move slowly as he ducked under the ropes and entered the ring. Cole was giving the television audience some stats on “Seth” as his opponent was announced. She started to speak, realizing that she couldn't hear herself in her headset, looking at her colleague, he shrugged, telling the listening audience that Lulu was having technical difficulties and we were working to resolve them. It wasn't until after the match that she realized that he had unplugged her headset from the equipment. “You didn't have to do that." She tell him. He winked at her and said, “And you shouldn't have to do this either.”
Later that night Joe knocked on his cousin’s door, tapping his foot as he waited for her to open up. “Lu! Open the door.” he yells, knocking again. He’d made it a habit to check on her every night after the show, especially with both of her brothers being out with injuries and especially tonight after Colby walked back into her life. “Lulu, open this fucking door!” he shouted again.
“What?” she sneered, jerking the door open, holding quite possibly the largest bottle of Vodka he’d ever seen. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks, yanking the bottle out of her hand. “Give it back asshole!” she says, trying to pry the bottle from his large hands. “Just leave me alone. I don’t wanna talk to you right now.” She hits him hard across the chest, fighting a losing battle for custody of the bottle. He sat down on the corner of her bed, the bottle clutched safely in his hands. “You’ve been doing so good why are you drinking again?”
“Let me drink myself to death-" she slurs, reaching for the bottle. "anything is better than this bullshit."
“Don't fuckin’ say that again!” he growls, shoving her hands away.
“I don't wanna be here anymore. Just leave me alone.” she cries as she stands in front of him.
“You’ve lost your mind if you think I'm leaving you alone now. I dont give a shit if I have to start rooming with you. Or I’ll call your damn brothers if I have to but you’re not gonna be alone! And you sure as shit aint gonna drink yourself to death!"
Her heart was breaking all over again, just as she thought she might start to heal there he was; the cause of her misery. She’d been seeing a therapist for the past six months and felt as if she was finally making some progress but her Ex Husband had thrown a wrench in that progress. She slid down the wall, pulling her knees to her chest and sobbed. Joe sat down next to her wrapping his large arms around her, his own heart breaking watching his cousin and one of his best friends in so much pain. He was there along with her brothers standing at her side during her daughter Livi’s funeral. Her brother Josh practically held her up on her feet as she squalled; she was inconsolable. Colby tried to comfort his wife, tried to hold her but she couldn’t stand the sight of him. Her brother's packed what clothes they could after the funeral and she moved back home to Florida the next day. She never looked back.
“Calm down.” Joe says, stroking her hair, “Breath. It’s okay.”
She wiped her red face, sucking in a few ragged breaths, “I know you still talk to him.”
“I've never hid it from you.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Lulu I'm not your enemy. And neither is he.”
“You don't understand!"
“You’re right, I don't know what it's like to lose a child. I pray every night that no one has to experience the loss that you and Colby did. Would you please consider at least talking to him?"
She shook her head, staring at the hotel carpet, "I have nothing left to say to that man."
Eventually she passed out leaning against him, Joe wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or from her crying herself to sleep. He picked her up and laid her in the bed, pulling the covers over her then made himself as comfortable as he could on the tiny hotel couch.
Lulu sat up in the bed sometime around nine that next morning, holding her throbbing head in her hands, groaning, "Ugh, I feel like shit."
"I'm not surprised." came Joe's voice from the bathroom.
She picked the empty Vodka bottle up and looked at it, "I drank all that last night?" She asks as he walks back into the room. "No, I poured the rest out after you passed out." He sat down next to his cousin, tying his tennis shoes, "I called Jon last night. He's flying in this afternoon."
Lulu rolled her eyes, laying back down on the bed, "Why'd you do that?"
"Honestly, because you need someone to watch you and he's hurt and isn't doing anything else."
"I don't need anyone to fucking watch me, I'm not a child."
Joe huffed, holding up the empty bottle, "You would have drank this entire bottle had I not come to your room last night."
"So you choose the brother that's had three DUI's to babysit his alcoholic sister?"
"That was years ago Lu, he's good now."
"Yeah, okay. Who do you think taught me how to drink?"
An odd look crossed Joe's face as he stared at her. "What do you mean, taught you how to drink?"
"Dude, I've been drinking with my brother since I was probably fifteen."
"Why didn't I know that?" He questions her.
She rolled her eyes, "Guess you don't know everything like you thought you did."
As show time neared Lulu sat down at the announcers desk, mentally preparing herself for another long night. She glanced over to her left and smiled "I gotta call his match tonight."
Michael nodded, "I know. I won't pull the plug on you this time, people might get suspicious." She smiled, knowing that he meant well, they'd been calling matches together for almost two years now. "If you'll take the lead, I can keep it together. I knew this day would come eventually."
Once again his music blasted through the arena, she took a deep breath. Summoning all her courage and taking Joe's advice she somehow stepped outside herself for the night; it helped that she could call him Seth and not Colby. It somehow felt less personal that way. There came a moment during the match that he flipped Sheamus over the top rope, slid under the ropes and threw him on top of the desk. The two came face to face again, she glanced away quickly trying not to make it awkward in front of the camera. Sheamus stood up on the desk, picking Seth up, dumping him unceremoniously on the edge causing him to roll off, landing on top of his Ex wife, knocking her out of the chair. The pair were now lying on the floor. They quickly squeezed each other's hand, the WWE's own secret code to make sure the other person was okay. "You okay babe? I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" He asked quickly. She nodded quickly, "I'm okay I think."
She could hear Michael Cole in her headset that was now laying beside her. Still calling the match, raving that Lulu had been knocked over. "What are you doing Seth get off her, you're gonna get counted out!" He shouts, trying to pull him off Lulu. "Sorry Lu." Colby says jumping up and returning to the ring, just beating the ref's ten count.
Lulu straightened herself out and pulled her chair back to its rightful place behind the desk. "These guys are wild tonight Lulu." Cole says into his headset. "I don't know what it is about the last Smackdown before a pay per view but they lose their damn minds." She says in return. This was the second time tonight she'd been knocked out of her chair. Usually these things were planned and she and Michael would have time to jump out of the way but tonight was unhinged, there had been a couple of minor injuries, the desk had been broken (which happened a lot) and she had landed on the floor twice.
"All I gotta say is, if you get hit one more time they might have some trouble on their hands in the form of your cousin Roman Reigns." Lulu laughed at her colleague, rolling her eyes and saying, "Nah, he knows I can take care of myself. But it is nice to have some backup with my brothers being out of action right now."
"Speaking of Jimmy and Jey," Michael tells the audience at home, "They are set to be back in action by December. So all you Uso fans, hang tight the brothers will be back soon. How are the guys doing Lu?"
This was the part of commentary she hated, making small talk to fill the downtime between matches. She smiled seeing the cameraman point the large camera at them. "Well, I spoke to Jey last night. He's feeling great, already back in the gym. Jimmy's injury was a little more complex but he's doing amazing. They're tough as nails Cole and all they want is to get back in the ring."
As the show ended and the crew was breaking down the ring to head to the pay per view event tomorrow Lulu gathered her things and headed backstage to meet up with Joe. She had to admit it was nice being able to have family on the road with her. After Livi’s passing she met with upper management asking to be moved to Friday nights to get away from Colby. That was two years ago and just as she was starting to feel somewhat better he seemed to be rearing his ugly head again.
"You ready to go?" Joe asks, meeting her in Gorilla. She nodded and followed him to the waiting car. "You okay? I saw Colby knock you outta your chair."
"Yeah, it scared me more than anything. I-." she pauses for a moment. "I, I wasn't sure what to say to him. He asked if I was alright and did he hurt me. I just couldn't say anything other than I was okay."
"And that's fine, you don't need all the answers right now. Cole was wanting me to run out there and save you."
Lulu laughed, rolling her eyes, "His favorite thing in the world is when you blow up on someone. Or if my brothers come to my rescue. He loves a good damsel in distress story."
"We've only done that a couple of times."
"That's what makes it so good. If it happened too often no one would appreciate it. Plus, I don't need rescuing."
"Oh… right, right." Joe says laughing at his cousin. She was right though, she was probably the toughest one of their bunch. She took no bullshit from anyone and that made her dangerous at times.
"Did Jon make it in?"
Joe nodded, not looking up from his phone. "Yeah, said he got here a few hours ago, he already checked into your room."
"My room?"
"Yes Lu, your room."
"I just told you I didn't need y'all babysitting me."
"Well, if you'd act like you were an adult we'd treat you like one."
"I lost my fucking child Joe. How am I supposed to act? Please tell me what a grieving mother should do?" She says just before getting out of the car and slamming the door behind her. "Calm down." He yells, racing after her. "Look, I'm sorry. I know that you're an adult. But I'm worried about you. How do you think we'd feel if we lost you?"
"Probably relieved." She spat back, shoving the large doors to the hotel open, Joe hot on her heels. "What room am I in, dad?" Joe rolls his eyes, pulling her to the side. "Stop it." He warns, giving her a stern look. "Hey, you're the one that thinks I need a babysitter. Must make you my dad. Just tell me the damn room number so I can go be sad in private."
At this point he didn't know if she was joking or serious. It was so hard to tell with her these days and that's what worried him and his family; one day she was up the next she was down. "Room 404." He says, pushing the elevator button for them. She stands quietly in the corner after he pushed the fourth floor and then moved to the corner with her, draping an arm over her shoulder. "I love you Lulu, just remember that."
She started to cry, turning toward him, wrapping her arms around him. The ding of the elevator let them know they'd arrived on their floor. He walks her quietly to the door knocking for Jon to let them in. They exchange looks as he gently pushes Lulu toward her older brother. "I don't know man." Joe says with a shrug as he leaves them standing in the door.
"Why you crying girl?" Jon asks sweetly, wrapping his arms around his baby sister. "I'm sad and I don't know what else to do." She cries burying her face in his chest. "Joe won't leave me alone, I just wanna be alone." Jon leads her over to the couch, "Look, he's just worried about you. And honestly I am too after talking to him. Why you drinkin' so much?"
She shot her brother a look, daring him to say something. "You're not really in a position to lecture me about drinking. At least I'm not driving after I drink."
"Don't start Lulu!"
"Then you don't start either Jonathan."
Jon sighed, rubbing his face roughly, "I'm gonna tell you a secret." He says, taking a seat next to his sister who had just sat down on the couch. "Did you know that before you were born that mom and dad lost a baby?" Jon asked his sister. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion, "What do you mean?"
"About two years before you were born mom gave birth to a little girl, she was born with a heart condition and lived for a few days before she passed away."
"No one ever told me that."
"Well, just like you don't like talking about Livi, mom doesn't like talking about the baby. Josh and I were small but I remember her being sad for a long time. I remember her and dad crying a lot. But she never blamed him."
"Well, it wasn't his fault."
"Just like Livi’s death wasn't Colby’s fault, it was an accident Lu! It could have happened to any of us, hell, it could have been you driving"
"I would have never let that happen to my baby."
"But what if it did and Colby blamed you? Don't you think this is killing him too?"
Her dark eyes stared blankly at her brother, unable to answer his questions. "I hope it does kill him."
"Fuck, Lu…" Jon sighed, "The point I'm trying to make is that, what if mom and dad gave up on each other after their child died. We wouldn't have you! And you don't know what might have happened if you wouldn't have given up."
"Now I feel like momma and daddy just had me to fill a void."
"Jesus, girl. I love you but you need some help."
She rolls her eyes, "No shit." She pushed herself up from the couch and unzipped her luggage, "You drinkin' with me or what?" Lulu asks, holding up a bottle of Absolute.
"Joe said he poured it out."
"He's not as smart as he thinks."
"We don't need to drink, you've got a pay per view to call tomorrow."
"Never stopped us before."
He grabs the bottle from her hand, opening it, "And you say I'm the bad influence." And takes a long drink before handing it over to his sister. "You are a terrible influence." She reminds him. Drink after drink the siblings finished the bottle. Both of them laughing and crying, reminiscing and dreaming of a different life. It was the only time Lulu felt free from her burdens. Free from society's watchful, prying eyes.
Joe had hoped that his cousin being there would help Lulu to relax and get into a better place mentally but he was wrong. As he opened the door to their room the next morning he was greeted with a sad sight. A Vodka bottle just as big as the last lay empty on the floor, along with Lulu. Jon was laying upside in the bed. He shook his head, thinking that maybe he'd made a mistake asking him to come watch over Lulu. He shook Jon awake, "Wake thr fuck up!" he said harshly, shaking him harder.
"Ugh." Jon moaned and rolled over. Joe sat down on the bed as he finally came to. "You're supposed to be helping her not gettin’ drunk with her! Damn. I can't trust you to do anything!"
Jon rolled his eyes, rubbing his face to help wake himself up, "She's fine. She just needs to get it outta her system."
"The fuck she's fine. Look at her!" He exclaims, pointing to Lulu, "Still wearing yesterday's clothes, passed out on the floor of her hotel room. I can't watch both of you!" He yells. "Here." Joe shoves a bag of biscuits in Jon's face, "Eat some breakfast and sober her the fuck up, she's got a job to do."
"Stop yelling." Lulu groans quietly from the floor.
"Get the fuck up off the floor Lu!"
"Go away." She says, trying to sit up. Joe reaches down and pulls her to her feet. "I hate you." She moans, falling forward before he sits her on the bed.
"She don't mean it." Jon tells him while throwing the comforter over his sister as she laid down.
"Oh, I'm sure she does." Joe says, turning around on his heels, walking out the door.
"I do mean it." She chimes in as the door closes.
Before her life changed Lulu was a different person. She was outgoing and fun, she didn't need alcohol to make it through the day. She and Colby enjoyed traveling and spending time at their home in Iowa with their daughter. They lived a quiet, simple life together. If Lulu was being honest with herself she missed those days. Colby was at the point in his career that he didn't have to travel as much and they could live a somewhat normal life.
As she lay in the bed, wrapped up in the comforter she thought back to the night that Colby called her, police sirens and an ambulance wailed in the background. He wasn’t making sense, just rambling over and over that he thought she was gone. She had never heard her husband cry but he cried so hard that he could barely catch his breath, his words coming out a jumbled mess; a policeman on the scene took the phone from him and told Lulu what had happened. “Ma’am, I'm sorry to tell you that your husband’s Jeep hit a patch of ice and he and your daughter hit a tree.” She would never forget those words, they were forever etched into her memory. That was the night that her world was turned upside down.
In her heart she knew that Colby wasn't at fault but she had nowhere else to place the blame.
“You killed our baby!”
“I lost my daughter too! She wasn’t just yours.”
“She never had a chance at life because of you!”
“Don't you think I would trade places with her if I could? I lost my daughter and my fucking wife that night!
“Hey.” Jon says softly, leaning over his sister and pulling the cover back, “Why you cryin'?”
She angrily wiped the tears from her face and sat up. “I hate my life. I don't wanna do this anymore.”
He shook his head, fighting back tears of his own. It killed him to see his sister in so much pain and not be able to do anything to help her. That was his and Josh’s job, to protect her; his dad made them promise if she pursued a career in WWE that they would protect her at all costs. He felt like he’d failed. “Here. Eat something, you’ve got a big day today.” he wasn't really sure what else to tell her as he handed her a biscuit. She was so deep in her depression that he didn't know if she’d ever be the same again.
She hands him the biscuit back, “I'm not hungry.”
“I'm not asking, I'm telling you to eat.”
“Im so sick of people telling me what the fuck I need to do.”
“Lu, I'm just trying to help you, that’s all.”
“You know what I wish, I wish that y’all would just let me die so I can be with my daughter.”
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actualalligator · 28 days
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Writing Patterns
tagged by @tizniz ❤️❤️❤️
Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!
Timing (0.6k G)
Buck dumped his bags on the kitchen island and sighed.
Lost in Space (3.1k M)
Buck had been excited about the sci-fi convention for weeks.
Combust (8.2k M)
Buck wishes more than anything he could take away all of Eddie's stress and anxiety over his parents’ impending visit.
Bedtime (2.6k M)
They got home five hours late from a truly hellacious shift.
i think i wanna marry you (5.4k M)
Buck stirs to kisses. 
Flare (1.4k M)
"Hey," Eddie says.
and i'll never see you again if i can help it (2.9K T)
They had danced around each other for so long that when they finally kissed for the first time, Buck felt like he'd come home. 
Kindle (9.8k M)
Buck lingers in the kitchen.
Grounded (1.6k T)
Eddie was livid as he glared at his thirteen-year-old son and his thirty-two-year-old partner across the kitchen table.
Just a Little Boy (7.5k T)
Buck can't help but feel like he's lost everything as he stands there on the roof.
Pattern: a lot of simple sentences that start with "Buck" lol
Tags under ✂️
Tagging @malewifediaz @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @anewkindofme @lochnesswriter @theotherbuckley @sznofthesticks
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starsarefire824 · 7 months
Note
Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤
aw thanks lex!!! <3
I'll stick with Stranger Things ones for this, in no particular order.
Lay Me Down Slow (M, 2/3) It's 1998 and Will is anxiously making his way to a bar to meet up with Mike, who he hasn't seen in over a decade. Emotions run high as he shares a drink with him, and when a confrontation turns violent, it leads to truths being told and the two of them finding each other again. Will POV.
I am having entirely too much fun with this one!!
Demons of Change and Wildflower Eyes (M, ongoing)- High school hasn't been easy for Will Byers, and he's had to live with the emotional scars of a loveless father and supernatural worlds as well as the physical ones from the hands of the bullies that make his everyday existence hell. One night, when he's looking for some peace and quiet Will comes upon one of them and something surprising happens. As he and Mike Wheeler tentatively open up to each other, they just might discover they may be exactly what they need to give each other much needed healing and self-acceptance. Can they survive everything that comes along with that?
This is probably my most obscure Byler fic? But I enjoyed writing it and I liked exploring some different dynamics between Will and Mike. I plan to get back to this one soon.
Death Lies in Wait- (M, ongoing)- Massachusetts, 1890. Max Mayfield is twenty-six years old and at the hand of her parents, settles for a marriage of convenience to a widowed lighthouse keeper. A stranger she'll be trapped with for the rest of her life on a lonely strip of land surrounded by nothing but endless, lonely sea. But, as she settles into her life, and she and her new husband try to coexist, they get wrapped up in a mysterious presence on the cape. It calls to them. It's lulling and coaxing and sings to them at night. Max discovers the secrets her new husband keeps. Mermaids and ghosts of the past come to haunt them.
Madwheeler/Byler//Lumax Gothic AU- Mermaid Will.
Historic gothic au and arranged marriage trope along with sea nymph/ mermaid Will? Idk man, it’s just the type of fic I want to see in the world and I needed it. I can’t wait to get back to this one!
Touch Me Like You Know Me- (M, complete)- Mike doesn't go home anymore, not unless absolutely necessary. Instead, he stays far away from Hawkins, quietly shutting himself off from the world, and burying the pain of the things he never said to the boy he'd left behind. But when his mother convinces him to return home for his thirty-fifth birthday, Mike is finally forced to confront just how much he'd given up when he runs into Will by accident. Mike-centric. Estranged Byler reconnection fic. Soft and Sweet.
I forever be obsessed with Mike looking at Will in this one. The themes just make me emotional and I felt proud of it more so than any other fic I've written I think.
The Pact (M, ongoing)- A pact between Max and Mike gone wrong gets them both unanimously voted out of the Party and they find themselves stuck with each other the summer after Graduation: fighting, commiserating, and begrudgingly discovering they are a lot more alike than they originally thought.
What kind of started as a joke fic, has turned into one of my favorite things I've written. I really liked getting to explore Max in this as I had never written for her before and I just really, really dig the partycule vibes of it. This also was probably the fic I've had THE MOST fun as far as interacting with readers in the comments and everyone has truly made it something really special to me. <3 Especially you Lex!
*ACSoL is my like first child who I'll always include, but can't put it here this time. But delving into some of Will's darker issues in a post-canon setting is what got me so excited about this fandom in the first place and also made me realize Will is my favorite character.
Thank you so much! I'm gonna come drop this in your inbox now <3
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noahmaxim · 1 year
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I am back - Alucard Hellsing
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Warnings: cuteness?
It's my first post, take it easy with me.
may contain spelling errors, English is not my first language.
____________________________________
It's been exactly thirty years since Alucard disappeared, for many years I kept hoping that he would return. But now I feel my hopes getting weaker, I swear I try to keep believing, but every day it gets harder.
"You and Seras said he would come back, but it's been thirty bloody years. I've become an old woman." Integra complains sitting in her chair.
"Wait a little longer Mr. Integra, the master will be back soon!" Seras had so much conviction, I wish I could be as sure of that as she was.
"Seras, I'm already old and one day I'll die. You and Sn can wait for eternity without a single wrinkle appearing on your skin." She holds out her cigar for me to light. In those thirty years I kind of became sort of the new Walter.
"That's just one of the bonuses that comes with master immortality." I say and Seras nods.
We hear the door to Integra's office open and reveal the three priests with whom Dr. Hellsing has a meeting today.
"I said to guide you to the meeting room." She gets up to greet them. I could feel their malicious and destructive intentions. Like everyone else, their will is to tear down the hellsing institution, but Seras and I won't let them.
[...]
I wake up quickly from my sleep when I hear the sounds of gunshots coming from Integra's room. I get up and run there as fast as I can, and when I try to get in I end up bumping into Seras who is standing in front of the door.
"But what the hell is going on?" I ask but get no response.
"Master!" As soon as that word left Seras's lips my blood runs cold and my palms begin to sweat. I step out from behind her and in front of me is Alucard on the ground and Integra in front of him feeding him her blood.
"Alucard!" I call him and he directs his gaze to me, his typical smile appears on his lips making my heart race.
"Come to me dear." He stands and stretches his arms out to me. I run to him jumping into his arms.
"it took you so long that Integra is as wrinkled as a raisin." I say and feel my lover's chest vibrate with his laugh and I hear Integra curse me.
"I did everything I could to get back as soon as possible." He squeezes me even tighter in his arms.
"Go have your couple moments outside my room. Everyone out, I want to sleep!" She throws the three of us out of the room.
"It's good to have you back master." Seras makes her way down the long corridor.
"How about we go back to our room." Alucard lifts me off the ground walking towards the basement.
When we arrive he sits on his throne with me still on his lap. It was so good to have Alucard back, it was still hard to believe and the fear that he would be gone again settles in my chest.
"Never think of me leaving again." I order making him laugh.
"I won't go." He lifts my chin gently with his long, cool fingers, he places a kiss on my lips. Her tongue asks for passage and I let her in, her mouth had a subtle taste of blood and at the same time it was sweet. We separate and I rest my head on his chest, and even with the fear of sleeping and him disappearing again, I end up falling asleep.
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unrequitedloveletter · 7 months
Text
The Axiom of Equality- T.S x gn! reader
all right! I don't know if there's much of an audience for tommy shelby fics here but I'm going to write this anyway because I've been daydreaming about it virtually daily since the idea first came up and if I don't get this out of my head I might just cry a little bit
Fic type- this is post-war hurt/comfort!!
Warnings- the war and being drafted into it are mentioned a fair amount
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Dear Tommy,
This letter won't be the best thing to return to after the war, but it's what I need to do and I need in turn for you understand that. I know that you probably won't but I am asking you to and I have to believe that such is enough.
I probably won't be in Birmingham upon your return. You've been gone for six months now, and I miss you everyday, Tommy, but I just can't stay here.
Every time I walk through Birmingham, it feels as though you are all I am capable of seeing. It is inescapable and I am in dire need of an escape plan.
I love you, Tommy, and I have stood by your side throughout the course of our entire lives, but I just cannot do this anymore. Find me when you're home--Ada will know an address, but so too will Polly, and I guarantee I will want your company at some point. Even now, I yearn for your presence.
All the love in the world and the deepest apologies to accompany that,
Y/N
-
Tommy had read and reread the letter since Ada had given it to him when he returned from the war. He'd not yet asked her for the address, even a year after his return because all he could do was mull it over.
He kept thinking about you and about the fact that you'd left, how much he'd missed you and the reluctancy with which he approached the acknowledgement of that.
There was to be no denying it, though. He couldn't deny he'd missed you simply because he had. At the mention of your name, the remembrance of any singular part of you, Thomas Shelbys heart shattered, and he was left scrambling to put it back together and remain composed for the sake of keeping his family from shattering as he had.
Eventually, sometime in autumn of 1920, he found himself searching for Ada. He'd heard from Arthur that she was at the Garrison with Freddie Thorne and when he found her, she met his gaze and she grinned like she knew why he'd come looking, let alone at eight on a random weeknight.
"Let me guess," she said. "You want an address? Particularly to a neat little flat just a thirty minute walk away from the Eiffel Tower?"
Tommy gave a rather impatient nod in spite of himself--so much time had passed since he'd left for the war and you'd left Birmingham to escape him. All he'd been able to think about since he returned had been you, and he doubted you'd found yourself in a similar predicament, but he still hoped.
"I am indeed," Tommy said. Ada laughed.
"You two were together how long, exactly? Five years, six?"
"Eight," Tommy said. "From October 31st, 1906 to the day I left for the war."
"And you love them wholeheartedly?"
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," Tommy said, running a hand through his hair. "Give me the address, Ada. Please--I've started to worry I'll go mad if you don't."
Ada grinned. "Yeah. Freddies got it on a slip of paper in his wallet."
Freddie took the slip of paper out of his wallet and passed it to Tommy, giving him a grin.
"They might be gone," Ada cautioned. "Maybe they remembered 'oh, yes! I fell in love with a criminal and left him in 1914. Don't want that life, so I'll leave him behind, move somewhere nice like...Canada, perhaps.'"
"I know," Tommy said. Ada could've been right, and you could've been gone, and Tommy could never have hoped to see you again, but the twenty-four year old who had helplessly loved you and couldn't wait to see you upon his return from the war had taken hold of his heart, and it was reaching out to yours, and there was nothing to be done other than to go. "But you've gotta understand, Ada. You, of all people."
"I do," she said. "Now, I'm sure you can buy a train ticket and make it to Paris in time to see them. Go."
And, in spite of himself and with the address from Freddie tucked into his palm, Tommy Shelby ran out of the Garrison like the eighteen year old boy who had spotted you approaching from the window and had felt his heart set itself alight with the joy he oh-so-rarely experienced.
Thomas Shelby was thirty, though. He was not the eighteen year old he had once been and you were not the eighteen year old who you had once been. Things had changed, and no matter for the giddy feeling in his heart that made Tommy feel like the boy he had once been, he was not that boy anymore. If you wanted to be left to your own, Tommy would respect that of you. If you had moved on, Tommy would respect that. He was not the person he had been before the war, and you weren't, either.
But still, Tommy went home. He packed as efficiently as possible, kissed Pollys cheek in goodbye and told Arthur to keep himself in check as he headed for the train station, his feet, his heart, and his mind dragging him on an impulsive trip to France.
-
The trip from Birmingham to Paris was a lot less difficult than Tommy had expected. Seven and a half hours on the train where Tommy read and made sure that his French sounded even slightly passable, and Tommy was at the train station in the heart of Paris for half past three in the morning.
The next hour was spent trying to locate a decent hotel to stay in for the week or so he'd planned to stay, and when he found one it was nearing five in the morning. He collapsed onto what turned out to be a bed that was almost decent but still a little off, and woke up at noon.
He showered to avoid smelling like cigarettes even though the smell of tobacco had never really bothered you and he knew he'd end up smoking one anyway, and then he was off to the address he'd been given at just after two.
What he found was not a flat. It was nothing of the sort--it was a quaint home by lakeside and one that was definitely a bit longer than a 30 minute walk away from the ever so infamous Eiffel Tower.
It was exactly the kind of home you'd described wanting to live in before Tommy left, exactly the kind of thing that you would've felt the most at home in from the outside. The acknowledgement of such made Tommys heart swell.
He was a very, very different person in 1920 than he had been before leaving for the war in 1914. He couldn't help but wonder just how much of a difference it would've made to you, the person who had once vowed to love him for the rest of your life, for the rest of his.
It gave him pause, made him hesitate as he walked up the front steps to your home and stopped him before he could knock on your front door.
What if you had remained unchanged and Tommy had done a full 180? What if you hated the person he'd become? There were too many variables, and, had he thought over it for more than approximately eleven seconds, Tommy would've done it all so differently.
He never lead with his impulse.
He never made rash decisions, not when it came to you.
But he supposed he could allow himself one rash decision a decade, and deciding to go to France on nothing more than a written address and a whim was definitely rash and impulsive enough to last him through to the 30s.
He approached your door. Knocked once, twice, a third and final time for the sake of politeness.
"Esmeralda? Is that you?" Your voice called. "I wasn't expecting you with the tea leaves until Sunday! Come in!"
Tommy didn't respond, only rested a hand on the doorknob, a rare surge of fear grabbing hold of his chest. It had been two years since he'd gone back to Birmingham. Six years since you'd last seen each other, with not a moment of contact through letter writing to bridge that gap. How much would you want to see him, really, if you wanted to see him at all?
"I'm going back to Birmingham this week! Esmeralda, darling, if thats you, please bring the tea in! Polly wrote that she wanted some and I figure I'll see her before I find Tommy. She'll be furious with me if I don't have them after I've promised to bring them along."
Tommy opened the door just a bit. It was unlocked--had you been expecting visitors?
"Esmeralda?" You asked for a third time. "Esmeralda Monroe, I don't care that you're in your eighties now, if you're playing a trick on me--" Tommy stepped into the house, tried to find even the slightest hint you were there outside of your voice.
The house was nice. It opened from a foyer into a lounge, one with a seemingly comfortable couch and a working fireplace. Through a small doorway, he caught your frame in what must've been the kitchen.
"My name isn't Esmeralda Monroe, but I would pity her if she were here," Tommy said. "What's this mess about you comin' down to Birmingham?"
"Come into the kitchen," you said. "I am unwilling to abandon my bread to see your face. Perfecting this recipe has taken Esmeralda and I weeks. She's eighty-six, so that time is precious time indeed."
Tommy gave a low laugh as he took off his coat and his hat, hanging them both on the coat rack to the right of the door. He walked through the lounge and into the kitchen, grinning the moment he saw your face.
"Hello," Tommy said. "Been a bit, hasn't it?"
You glanced up from the dough that had held your focus. "Quite a long time. I'm sorry I didn't go to Birmingham sooner--I wanted to the moment Ada wrote and said you were still alive, but I didn't. I couldn't get the time away from work, though I nearly did quit on the spot when I was refused."
"You would've come back sooner?" Tommy asked. "I came down here to tell you I'm sorry that you had to leave at all."
"It wasn't your fault," you said. "I was yearning terribly and I made a cataclysmic mistake. I would do it over if I could. I would've gone round to the Shelby home and asked Pol to talk a bit of sense into me."
Tommy laughed. "I'm apt to think she would've told you to go," he said. "Always did say I didn't deserve you or your love for french pastry."
You laughed, flouring the clean countertop in front of you and laying your dough on it so that it could be kneaded. "She might've, but I dunno that I would've listened. If I'd stayed, we could've resumed things. There wouldn't be a six year gap between our departure and our reunion."
"We wouldn't've become different people," Tommy said.
"The war would've changed you, Tommy. Seems like it did as is," you said. "But I don't fault you for that. Fighting in the war changes people--I've gotten to know a couple of people who were nurses. They don't seem right either."
"And you don't--the fact that I may have changed leaves you undeterred?"
"There's an axiom that Esmeralda introduced me to," you said. "The axiom of equality. It's a mathematical principle but I like it better as a statement."
"What is it?" Tommy asked. He'd not been much of a math person, and while he had no doubt that someone like Polly would've known what it was, he hadn't a clue. "I've been too busy legitimizing stuff back home to read up on mathematical principles and ideas."
"The axiom of equality states that x=x," you said. Tommy, in a bit of a mood to help, located a cabinet with a bread pan as you talked. "It states that x must always equal x. Esmeralda told me that the principle of the principle, when applied to people, is that the person you were in the past will always be the person you are in the present."
"Are you insulting me?" Tommy asked, grabbing the crisco shortening from the spot you kept it in the pantry. "I'm feeling rather insulted."
"That is, in fact, not my goal," you said. "If I were insulting you, I would doing so with an air of flirt in the hopes of winning a kiss. You still probably taste like tobacco, but I've never minded that."
Tommy greased the bread pan, shaking his head. If you wanted a kiss, all you had to do was ask.
"The point of bringing up the axiom was just to tell you that it doesn't apply to everyone," you said. "We're human, Tommy. We're not a variable in mathematics, and as such, I'm pretty sure I would be able to learn how to love you if you came back someone completely and utterly changed."
"I have," Tommy said. "I am not the person I was in 1914."
"I'm not the person I was then, either," you said. "I've changed, even if it doesn't look it. I know I still look twenty four."
"Twenty six, at best."
"Thomas Shelby!" You shouted, placing the bread into the bread pan and grabbing a kitchen towel. Tommy dodged it as you thwacked it at him, laughing at the whole ordeal of the thing.
"I look a minimum of thirty-one, so you're better off than I," Tommy said. "And even as such, you're still the looker I fell in love with."
"Oh, if Ada were here, she'd have taken your head!" You laughed, and Tommy laughed, and oh, Tommy had never thought he'd have gotten so lucky as to heard the sound of your laugh again. "I would've watched--you are a real prick, Tommy!"
"A prick with whom you were once deeply in love," Tommy said. "One who you once kissed under a willow tree, and drank with, and sang with, and--"
You laughed, pressed your forehead against his shoulder. "I've missed you, Tommy."
"I've missed you more," Tommy said.
"How long are you to stay?" You asked.
"A week," Tommy said. "We can travel back to Birmingham together, if that sounds like an idea you fancy?"
You lifted your forehead from his shoulder. "That sounds wonderful," you said. "I'd really, really like that."
"Would you ever consider moving back?" Tommy asked. "I'm not asking you to if you don't want to, but if you'd consider..."
"If I were proposed to by a certain Birmingham native, I might consider it," you said. "Of course, this Birmingham native would have to fit six years of flirtations and kisses and casual signs of affection into just a week if such was his goal."
Tommy laughed. "I think he could manage that," he said. "Especially considering that he has a ring already--he bought it six months before he was drafted."
Your mouth opened in shock. "You were going to propose?"
"The plan was to do so the week I was drafted--sunset, perfect look out spot, everything was going to be amazing--but then I was drafted and proposing seemed to null itself out a little."
"You were going to propose and I left you in the dust? I am the worlds worst partner."
Tommy shook his head. "There are worse people," he said. "People who cheat on their spouses, namely. You only left because you missed me and it was so intense you couldn't handle the pain."
"When you put it that way, it sounds rather romantic," you said. "Less like one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made."
Tommy laughed, and he took your hand, and all he could think was that he was glad for the impulsiveness in his heart that'd dragged him onto a train for seven and a half hours, a shoddy hotel room for seven hours, and an additional hour spent trying to get rid of the scent of tobacco, chewing mint gum to rid it from his breath.
Tommy leaned in, and your arms found his shoulders as his found your waist. You closed the gap, and Tommy was kissing you for the first time in six years. He was kissing you for the first time in two thousand days.
He kissed you like a man starved and when you pulled away, wanted to kiss you again but managed to refrain.
"Missed that," you said.
Tommy gave a breathy laugh. "Ditto," he said.
Though the two of you were not the people you'd been before the war, you found it incredibly easy to love one another still.
"Well," Tommy said. "I would think I've got two weeks to cram six years worth of affection in to get you to come home, which means you'll probably grow sick of being kissed like that within the next bit."
You shook your head. "I would never," you said.
Tommy just laughed, pulled you in for another kiss and found his heart floating away from him, overtaken by love and joy and content, the rarely experienced emotions that always came into full effect whenever you were so much as in the same room as he was.
"I'll take your word for it, then," he said against your lips, laughing as you pulled him even closer, the both of you starved for one anothers touches.
And he would do as he said, let himself get lost in how you felt because the feeling of your touch was borderline intoxicating.
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cherry-alive · 25 days
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This post is primarily aimed at people who followed me here from my main blog, @honeysuckle-venom, where I've talked a fair amount about having DID. If you don't know me from there this may not make sense, and also really isn't necessary to read. If you do know me from there it's also obviously not necessary to read, but here's the post I wanted to write about C and about where we are in recovery and about this blog
I have tried literally over ten times to write a long post explaining more about C and how she woke up from over a decade of dormancy and how she fits into our healing and what this blog is about, with no success. I just can't seem to do it. So. I'll do my best with what I can share without a thirty page backstory I'm not comfortable giving.
The very very very edited cliff notes version is that for Trauma Reasons we had to dissociate and split off a lot of our sweetest, softest, most joyful, and/or most feminine traits, all of which were very present in early childhood but not allowed to be present as we got older bc of trauma things I don't want to talk about. Those traits got split up somewhat, Eloise had some, the Dolls had some, etc, but the one who had the most/had a combination of all of that and more is C. C is also possibly the core/original, she's really really connected to who we were as a young child and who we feel we are at heart in a very special way that is distinct from everyone else, even Luna who we thought had been around the longest. C went mostly dormant when we were 11, and entirely dormant at 16. I did not know about her, not really, and to the extent I did I thought she was genuinely dead. As I've continued to heal in therapy I've noticed that I've had increasing desires to get back in touch with some of those traits that I was forced away from. Accepting Eloise, starting to accept the Dolls, and slowly realizing and acknowledging that I identified as femme were all really important steps for me. Eventually as I explored the concept of my femininity in therapy sessions, my therapist said something that ended up waking C from dormancy. That was about a year ago. With her came a huge rush of feelings and memories I'd completely lost, and a whole new capacity for joy and recovery and healing that I didn't think I'd ever have. We remembered that once upon a time, we didn't understand cruelty, we didn't want to hurt or manipulate anyone. We loved fairies and magic and flowers and art and cooking and the natural world. We loved pink and purple and sparkles and lace. We listened to birdsong, we were kind and friendly, we were gentle and warm. And we could be that way again, and take joy in it again. We realized that she is in some ways the most central part of us, and embodies a lot of who we want to be and who we feel happiest and most whole as. But she's very vulnerable, partially because she's so central and so directly tied to some very key trauma, and there was also a lot of old trauma things at play that make us very nervous to publicly talk about or show her, and/or to act in the ways that she wants and that make all of us happy, like embracing softness and femininity more. That still feels very very dangerous to us, but also every time we do it and get a positive response instead of further traumatization in respose it is deeply healing and it just feels so true to who we want to be in a way that is really healthy. So gradually we've been sharing more and more when it feels safe, and we finally reached a place where sharing the url of this blog with people from main felt like a potentially positive and healing step, where we could embrace the things C likes and that we all like publicly and try to fight some against the shame and fear we feel whenever we want to act softer or reblog pink things or what have you. It's really scary still honestly but it also just feels so validating and good to be able to be myself in this way, when for decades I tried to repress a lot of these traits as much as possible. So. Yeah. That's why we made this blog and why we finally decided to share some more about C/what she likes, because it's honestly stuff I like too and I don't want to be afraid or ashamed to wear something pink and pretty or have heart shaped kitchenware or just embrace the softest gentlest parts of myself anymore.
There's. So much more here/more to C and our backstory with this stuff but I think that's what I can share for now. But also I'd like to be able to talk more about some of this stuff, I just don't have the words yet/don't know how. So if you have any questions about this post or this blog or whatever feel free to ask. I might not answer, but I also might because it might be helpful rather than just trying to write something without a prompt
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twothpaste · 9 months
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For the meme!! Duster :D
First impression: I remember liking Duster a lot when I first played M3. The way the game gets you into his perspective at the start of Chapter 2 is really impactful… Wess shouting at him and degrading him, while he just loyally stands there and takes it without a fuss. And the care with which he's animated - always limping (even in his Pigmask disguise), takin' a deep breath before using Wall Staples, spinnin' his bass around when he performs - was endearing & impressive from day 1. I don't recall having any profound thoughts or headcanons about him, but I was glad to play with such a unique party member!
Impression now: I fuckin' love him. A man of such humble highs and lows. He goes from being a cooped-up undersocialized abuse victim to a rockstar celebrity to a world-saving hero, and does it all in the most gentle unassuming manner imaginable. What I think is most special & sad & remarkable about Duster is how painstakingly selfless he is. Dude who will drop literally everything on the spot to do what's asked of him, to help a neighbor in need, to look after a kid who needs him. Putting everyone else first, to such an admirable extent - and to such a dramatic fault. He was denied any sense of self worth growing up, which creates this fascinating & tragic double-edge. He doesn't know how to be kind to himself, but by god, he'll do right by others even if it kills him.
Favorite moment: When he plays with DCMC one last time at New Pork City. It's loads of fun, and so fucking sweet. His bandmates are overjoyed to see him, Lucas & Kuma are delighted to hear him perform again, everyone's gathered to listen. OJ tells him afterwards they could never replace him - DCMC's not complete without its bassist. I imagine he starts to realize here how genuinely loved he is. That he's not just a vessel for positive action, but a crucial part of the communities he loves! And a beloved & worthy person in his own right!!
Idea for a story: There is something very existentially haunting about how Duster's the only Tazmilian who's had his memories wiped twice. Dude's lived three separate lives - four if the post-amnesiac epic adventure Duster we play with from Chapter 5 onwards counts as another. I gotta wonder how he reconciles his identity, especially after (presumably) recovering his White Ship memories sometime postgame. I like to imagine he's content to settle down as a musician first n' foremost, donning his stage name when he performs. But god knows what kinda horrors he witnessed, growing up in a world on the brink of apocalypse. And how he might convey this to his bandmates, who must have their own wild timetravel backstories to grapple with. And how he settles back into a village where he used to be a total black sheep. And how he carves out a new life for himself as an independent adult, after Wess deprived him of agency for so long. Just seems like there's a quite a few disparate Dusters for future Duster to sort out!
Unpopular opinion: My man is thirty or forty years old. Can scarcely fathom him younger. I put him at 37 post-timeskip, myself.
Favorite relationship: Hard to place which is my favorite, so I'll do a few. His situation with Wess makes me ache so bad. Some folks interpret Wess more charitably, which I can see & respect, but I personally read him as pretty explicitly abusive. The fact Wess does have commendable traits too, though, and that he & Duster do seem to care for each other deep down, complicates things in such a realistic way. Duster's not the sorta person to write off his aging father, despite how badly Wess has hurt him and let him down. Wess does love his son, but might be too stubborn to truly change his ways. Where do they go from there? Who's to say, but it makes my chest hurt. I love to imagine the way Duster treats Lucas & Kuma is in stark contrast to his upbringing. That he's endlessly patient with these kids, even at their weakest and worst. 'Cause he knows exactly how it feels to be berated & chastised for failure. I also think his time with DCMC feeds into that. Like, they taught him to play bass n' perform n' everything - surely it didn't come easy for an amnesiac with no prior social skills or musical talents. He learned patience and care from them. The thought of his new friends treating him gently for the first time, and Duster not remembering any other life, is so fuckin' sweet to me. Agh.
Favorite headcanon: He likes wearing Hawaiian shirts. He's dating OJ - let these gay men be mundane, middle-aged, and schlubby as hell. His postgame hobbies include sailing and, yes, again, smoking mad pot.
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moonywritez6 · 3 months
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Always There (Reupload)
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Character: Chichi (Dragon Ball)
Reader: Female Reader
Warnings: Harsh language, Fluff laced with slight angst
Wc: 2,960
A/n: Hello my sweets! Unfortunately, I got locked out of my old blog account, so I had to make a new one! So, chances of you having seen this before are high as it's on my old account! (I am so sad about it honestly). But I am going through all my old accounts posts and reuploading them here! I hope you can still enjoy my works!
______________________________________________________________
The sound of an alarm filled your ears, causing you to let out a small groan as you slowly opened your eyes, grimacing at the bright rays of sun that filled the room of your small apartment. You reach over towards your nightstand to smack the off button before rubbing what sleep remained in your eyes. 'I guess I should start getting ready.' With a tired sigh, you sat up from the comfort of your bed, kicking the blankets off before heading towards your bathroom to start the day. After getting yourself ready and eating breakfast, the phone rang, causing you to stumble around the corner to answer.
"Hello, Y/L/N residence." You answered automatically. A familiar laugh sounded on the other end, causing a soft smile to grace your lips, eyes softening at the beautiful melody. "You sound like you just ran towards the phone, Y/n! How often have I told you that the call won't stop after just one ring?!" You just hummed, leaning your head against the doorframe. "What can I say, Chichi? I'm quick to act." You joked, a small laugh slipping past your lips. Chichi huffs on the other end. You can picture her form standing there, probably cleaning her hands with an apron as she shakes her head with a frown. "I swear I surround myself with impatient people!" She complains, causing your laugh to echo off the walls.
You and Chichi have been friends ever since you were children. The two of you had met during your first day of school when she had smacked a boy who had been picking on you for not having that big of a lunch. Since that day, you two were always seen with each other, your bond closer than anyone's. You were even her maid of honor for her marriage to Goku, that day being one of the happiest yet most painful days of your life.
"Anyways, I was calling to see if you could arrive three hours early for Goten's party! I'm a little behind on preparations, and the boys won't be home until the party starts!" Chichi spoke, her voice hopeful and bright, but after having known her for so many years, you can catch how tired she is. "Of course, I can head over there now if you'd like." You say, glancing at your watch. "Really?! You're my knight in shining armor, Y/n!" The woman cheers, causing a smile to form on your lips, accompanied by a slight blush. "I'll see you in thirty minutes." And with that, you hang up the phone, letting out a small sigh. "Once again, it's me to the rescue." You muttered while glancing at the picture frame by your front door.
The picture consisted of the married couple with you and Krillen next to them, all of you with bright smiles on your faces. You make sure to grab Goten's present, your keys, and anything else you need before putting on your shoes and exiting the small apartment. You hop onto your motorcycle and head towards your friend's home in the woods. 'How long have I been having to help Chichi out? Since their marriage? Or was it since Gohan's birth?' You shake your head at the thought, letting out a deep sigh. You held nothing against the Saiyan warrior, at least not anymore; you became terrific friends from the moment you met. However, there was one small problem. One that no one would ever know about so long as you lived. You loved Chichi. You don't know when those feelings of friendship blossomed into more, but you knew that it would never happen between the two of you as her heart became Goku's the moment they met.
Because of this, you couldn't help but hate him at first. You hated him always putting training and fighting before his wife and kids. You hated the days when Chichi would call you up or even show up to your place crying for her husband on the days he died from whatever danger there had been. You hated how his adorable sons had to grow up or go some of their lives without their dad. It drove you mad before, but now you see it as a regular occurrence. Chichi always told you that even though she had married an idiotic fool, she wouldn't take it back and always held such love in her eyes whenever she would talk about her husband. Because of this, you gave up on that hatred for Goku and focused on giving Chichi and the boys any support they needed.
Before you realize it, you're parking your bike in front of the small and quiet home. You turn your bike off, taking off your helmet with a satisfied sigh. “Y/n!!!” Chichi cheered, waving her hand as she ran from her home towards you. You look at her and smile, jumping off the bike and picking her up in your arms as you spin her around, causing her to laugh at your actions. "Haha! Y/n, it's so good to see you! It's been a while!" She laughed as you carefully put her down. "About three months since I've been here." You admitted while grabbing your things, following her into the home you had become all too familiar with. "So, where is everyone?" You ask, placing your things down while Chichi takes your jacket.
"Gohan is at home with Videl and Pan, Dad is out getting some last-minute things, and Goku took Goten to Bulma's so we can surprise him!" She said, making her way into the kitchen. You hum, nodding your head in response as you join her. "I see. No wonder you needed to call me in." You joked, causing Chichi to elbow you in the gut lightly. "Oh, cut it out, Y/n! You know you're always welcome to come over without having to help with anything!" She scoffs before the two of you get to work in the kitchen, finishing up some of the food. You listen as Chichi complains about how Goten is just like his father and neither of her kids ever wanted to study. This was the usual whenever you were around her. You just smiled, listening to every word, engraving it into your mind.
You loved how passionate Chichi got over her boys and how she only wanted excellent and prosperous lives for them all. "You're a good mother and wife, Chichi." The words slip out of your mouth before your brain can process them. Chichi stopped her rant and looked at you with that gorgeous smile you loved so much plastered across her face. "Haha! You think? Sometimes, I wonder if those boys think differently." She confessed, leaning against the counter while looking out in thought. You watched her silently, wanting to reach out and wrap your arms around her. Tell her she's perfect, strong, beautiful, intelligent, hard-working, but you know better. You know that if you were to do that, you would never be able to get over your love for her, so you remain strong, knowing that it's best for all of you. With a sigh, Chichi jumps up, smacking her cheeks with her hands, causing you to jump, looking at her surprised.
She shakes her head before smiling once again. "Enough of that! Come on, it's almost time!" She laughed, pulling you towards the living room, where the two of you set everything up. "Chichi! I'm back!" You heard her father call. "Hello Ox-King! It's been a while!" You greet the older man in the doorway, watching as a giant smile crosses his face. "Why if it isn't Y/n! It's been a while; come here, sweetheart!" He laughed, pulling you into a tight hug. You laughed lightly, hitting his chest. "Come now! You'll break my ribs if you hug me that tight!" You joked with both of you laughing. Chichi poked her head around the corner curiously before smiling.
"Oh good, you're back! Hurry, everyone will be here soon!" She rushed, pushing both of you further into the house. You roll your eyes at her. "Now look who's impatient." This, of course, earned you a smack to the head.
You watched as everyone started to show up for the party, each greeting you, wanting to catch up after not seeing you in months. You smile and greet everyone before your eyes land on Gohan arriving with his family. "Is that my little Pan?!?!" You cry out, causing the little girl to smile, holding her arms out as she squeals for you. “Y/n!” You scoop her up, nuzzling your nose into her cheek, causing her to laugh. Gohan looks at you and smiles. "It's so good to see you again, Y/n-san. Have you been well?" he asks, touching your shoulder. "I've been good, thank you. Work has been a little busy, though, so I haven't been able to see everyone lately." You confessed, body slumping in defeat. Gohan laughs, tossing his head back as he pats your shoulder. "I see! I see! That's such a relief!" He laughed, causing you to look at him curiously.
Gohan motioned for you to lean closer, which you did as he went and whispered into your ear. "Mom was worried that she did something to upset you, and that's why you hadn't been stopping by." Your eyes went wide at this as you looked at him in shock. "Mom cares about you, Y/n-san." He genuinely smiles as he ruffles your hair as if forgetting you are way older than him. "We all do!" With that, you smiled, nodding before walking back with him. Pan was rambling about something she did at school while you listened to her humming each time she said something that would require a response.
Soon, Goku and Goten arrived, causing Chichi to shush everyone quickly as she prepared to surprise her youngest son. The doors opened, and everyone yelled surprise at the young boy who stood there in utter shock. Goku laughed, asking if his son was shocked. You watched as Goten smiled, thanking everyone as the party started. You walked around talking to many people, enjoying catching up with those you had considered close friends. "Hey, Y/n!" You felt a tap on your shoulder, causing you to stop your conversation with Bulma. You looked to see Goku standing there with a piece of meat in his hand as he flashed his signature smile, giving you a small wave. "It's been a while! How's it been?!" He asked enthusiastically. You turned to Bulma, excusing yourself, to which she just smiled, nodding her head before walking away. "Hello, Goku! I see you're stuffing your face as usual!" You laugh, going and hitting him in the stomach. He laughs, scratching the back of his head shyly.
"I haven't seen you since I returned to earth. Has everything been okay? Do you have a boyfriend yet?" He teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you. This earned a glare as you held your first up vein popping on the side of your head. "Watch it or I'll beat you." You growled, causing the Saiyan to laugh as he apologized while smacking you on the shoulder. "I'm kidding! Kidding! It's just really good to see you! You should stop by more!" He laughed before taking a bite out of the meat in his hand. "And you need to stop dying on everyone!" You scolded, stepping on his foot and causing him to whine. This was the usual relationship between you and Goku. He would tease you with stupid words or pranks, and you would scold him while beating him up.
Goku scratches the back of his head, laughing nervously. "Oh, come on, Y/n, it's not like I do it on purpose." You felt your eye twitch as you crossed your arms, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh. "I understand that Goku, I do." You trailed off momentarily before looking up at him, eyes locking. "But you don't always have to be the world's hero. You can also be a hero for your family, ya know?" You sighed, defeated. Goku just smiled, his eyes filling with care and appreciation as he ruffled your hair like Gohan had done earlier. "You know me, Y/n, I can't help it." Before bending down to your height, he confessed, causing you to get irritated, but you knew it was so that he could whisper something to you.
"Thank you for caring for my family when I fail to Y/n. You've always been there for us, and I do appreciate it. So, whenever you need something, don't feel like you have to do it alone, okay? Just call one of us, and we'll be there!" He laughed. You just looked at him in awe, not expecting such words from Goku. From the moment you met the man, he was a complete idiot, and you told Chichi that when she first introduced the two of you. You shake that off and give a small smile. "Thank you, Goku." He smiled before running over to Vegeta, sitting away from everyone, looking annoyed.
As the party progressed, you sat away from everyone, tired of the day's activities. 'I should probably head back soon…Chichi seems busy, and I haven't been getting proper rest.' You thought while scanning over everyone. Eventually, your eyes land on Chichi, standing with her family, watching Goten go through his gifts with pure joy. You just stared at her, your chest and mind swirling with emotions before pinching the bridge of your nose and squeezing your eyes shut. 'Dammit…maybe I should try dating.' You mentally cursed a frown on your face.
This didn't go unnoticed as Chichi glanced over the crowd, her eyes landing on your tired form, taking in the frown on your face. She frowns at this, quietly excusing herself as she makes her way over to you.
"Y/n? Is everything okay?" Her sudden voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you looked at her internally, wincing as you took in her worried look. You pushed away all your thoughts and feelings as you looked at her, a soft smile replacing the frown on your face. "Hey! Everything's fine; I'm just a bit tired, is all." You hated not telling Chichi the truth, but you knew it was for the best. Chichi frowned at this as she leaned closer, her face inches from yours, causing a blush to appear as you avoided eye contact with her. "W-what is it? Do I have something on my face?" You asked nervously. Chichi doesn't say anything for a minute before she goes and flicks you in the middle of the forehead.
"Ouch! What was that for?!" You cried, rubbing the now irritated skin. "You need to take better care of yourself, Y/n! I swear, ever since we were kids, you never had a proper schedule or even a routine!" She scolded, pointing a finger at you. Surprised, you just looked at her as she went on a scolding spree, crossing her arms. "Honestly, how much longer am I going to have to take care of you?" She sighed, shaking her head. You soon smile as you go and wrap your arms around her shoulders, laughing as you poke one of her puffed-out cheeks. "Oh come on Chichi! I'm perfectly fine! Look, see?! My skin is as clear as day and my health couldn't improve!" You teased a sly smile on your face.
Chichi shot you an annoyed glance as she went and pinched your hand, causing you to whine as you tried to free yourself. "Hey! What was that for?!" You yelled lightly, pulling on her hair. "Ouch! Y/n, why you!" Before anyone could process what was happening a few feet away, you and Chichi were on the ground fighting with each other.
"Mom?! Y/n-san?!" Gohan yelled, surprised, not understanding what happened to cause this. Everyone watched in surprise while Goku laughed, walking towards the two women. "It's just like old times!" He cheered while separating the two of you, holding you both by the backs of your shirts. "She started it!" You both yelled, pointing at the other. Goku just laughed, rolling his eyes at the two. "Come on, girls! You two are too old to be fighting like that anymore." He laughed, causing everyone to go silent as a cold breeze passed, sending shivers throughout everyone's body.
You and Chichi looked at each other, faces blank as you nodded in agreement, causing the warrior to look between the two confused. "Eh? Did I say something wrong?" He questioned. You and Chichi just smiled before tackling Goku to the ground, earning a cry from him while everyone else laughed as they watched the two women tickle the Saiyan, who flailed around on the ground, begging for them to stop. You both just laughed, holding your stomachs in pain, tears in your eyes. You look over at Chichi, watching her beautiful smile fill your heart with pure bliss. You smile, a slight blush on your cheeks as you take her hand, causing her to look at you with a toothy grin as you help each other up.
'Chichi…even though we can't be anything more than friends in this lifetime.' You think as she pulls you towards everyone, her hand gripping your own with her delicate skin. She looks back at you, that excited glint of life in her eyes. "Come on Y/n I made sure to save you some cake!" She laughed as you smiled, running past her hand still in hers. "In that case let's hurry up!" You laughed, wanting to beat the Saiyan men to the last piece of cake that Chichi spent hours making.
'I'll always be with you…loving every second we spend together.'
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rjalker · 10 months
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Bigot online have been accusing me of being 30 since I turned 20, and it's always the exact same sort of people (who claim that criticizing any kind of bigotry online that they think is fun means you're terminally online and a useless hobo who needs to get a job and needs to touch grass and yada yada yada insert the newst trendy ableist insult here) who say this like it's an insult, and they think this means they're somehow winning the "debate".
Someone will post something blatantly bigoted, I'll point out the bigotry, and then they'll be transmisic, ableist, or classist towards me, or all three at once, and then follow this up with "aren't you 30?"
Like, no, I'm not, and more importantly, what are you trying to accomplish with this "accusation"?
Like, do you people think that bigotry is only bad if it's happening to people ages 29 or younger?
Do you think when people turn thirty their opinions on bigotry no longer matter?
Like what is the fucking logic here? Because like, it's literally just blatant ageism, on top of whatever other bigotry they're being criticized for in the first place.
Like oh, sorry, I didn't get the memo that once you turn 20 you're not allowed to think misogyny, or ableism, or racism, or classism are bad. It's Definitely The Law™ that all people older than 20 have to be apathetic and resigned to the world burning down and everyone dying without any resistance at all.
Like it's so ridiculous.
"you're thirty why are you talking about how sexual harassment is bad"
Gee I don't fucking know, maybe because when I'm actually 30 years old morals will still exist and bigotry will still be bad?
Like this is just blatant bigotry but these fucking people always think they're being sooo clever and progressive by just lying about my age like me being 30 would mean my opinions about bigotry that impact my life would suddenly be rendered meaningless.
Like are these people going to walk up to Queer and disabled elders and tell them their experiences don't matter because they're older than 20? Only people younger than 29 are allowed to have an opinion on bigotry being bad, otherwise you're cringey and terminally online and need to get a job????
Like, hello? You do all realize that if you're not already, you're going to be thirty some day if you're lucky, and so will I, and pretending that "Being thirty" imparts some state of "no longer mattering in any way to any conversation" is just....straight up ageist??? Along with being patently absurd???
Like why do you all feel the need to lie about how old I am and then mock me for the age you've assigned me. What fucking sense does that make in your self-proclaimed leftist head.
I think some of you self-proclaimed "leftists" just need to admit you want to go back to highschool so you can be a bully to children who can't fight back again. Because we can all fucking tell you're still riding that high and looking for new victims as soon as you think you find one that's an "Acceptable" target.
If all it takes for you to start misgendering people and making targeted ableist insults is for someone to point out that your attitudes and behavior are classist and ableist, then you're not a good person and you never have been, and it doesn't matter how many times you lie about my age las though me being 30 would somehow be the most devastating insult ever to exist. Like seriously what is wrong with you people. I don't think you know what morals are.
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worldssmallestghost · 6 months
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Pendragon and being an adult.
So, I've been making a lot of Pendragon Adventures posts while I'm here. I found the series when I was in middle school. I started with the first book and got hooked pretty quickly. I've always been a sucker for, well, for lack of better terms, isekai stuff.
I spent the next few years chasing the books down, being there when books nine and 10 were released. So, if I was a teen when I read these books, why am I talking about them now, as a thirty something year old? I've grown to read more adult series, I've begun even writing my own dark fantasy novel. Why am I here?
I was in a dark place during 2020, but who wasn't? I didn't have much going for me aside from a job that had only one perk; being able to listen to audiobooks while performing my menial tasks. I decided, after finishing A Song of Ice and Fire, that I'd move onto something more light-hearted. In hindsight, yeah, maybe as an adult reading a book meant to deliver darker themes to kids was a bit of a weird decision.
I started listening and begun to pick up on themes I hadn't in my youth. Sure as a teen, I noticed the themes of hardship and found family and friendship pushing through even the darkest times.
But as an adult during these... Quite frankly, uncertain times...
Book six is what made me think. The themes of fascism and disease and humanity's stubbornness in the face of what's right, being blinded by hatred...
I envy my younger self for not being able to identify with those messages. With finding them to just be fantasy elements made to raise the stakes in the story.
I finished Raven Rise recently. I'm on Soldiers of Halla currently.
Ravinia is real, to an extent. Not literally, Halla and Alexander Naymeer and the travelers and Saint Dane aren't real. But the fanaticism? The very real levels of approaching fascism that humanity is speeding towards, despite the fact that some people who *lived through that* are still alive?
God.
I wrote earlier about learning to appreciate Soldiers of Halla's ending. As a teen, I hated it. I hated the idea that Bobby would throw away his friends and memories. I hated that everything had just gone "the way it was supposed to be". I wrote about how as an adult who's gone through some really hard times in my life, I can see why Bobby would throw all that away. Throw his trauma away. He lost a lot, but gained peace. Something I, an adult with stress and trauma disorders, wish I could do.
"Hobey ho" has stuck in my mind all these years as a triumphant "I CAN DO THIS!" hail Mary. As dorky as it sounds, on my wedding day, I had planned to say it in my vows to the person I love more than life itself, someone who has never read these books. Nobody in the room besides me ever had. I wanted to take this next challenge in my life on with the same enthusiasm as an over-energetic aquaneer about to take on a space fascist.
It brings me back to a time I was more care-free, where my biggest problems were if the girl I liked wanted to say she liked me back. While also reminding me of a grim future lurking around the corner, and that there are good people out there who just want the human species to make the right choices.
Once I'm finished book ten, I'm gong to listen to them all again in a row and then leave the series for a while. Until I feel I've reached another turning point in my life worthy of looking back at Bobby Pendragon's struggles through space and time.
I'll ride down the flume again someday and face whatever comes next with two words in my heart.
Hobey ho.
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antonymziie · 2 months
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dead history — beetlejuice fanfiction
word count: 1,413
synopsis: tyler jones is a historian and skeptic of the supernatural, finds themself in the midst of a graveyard investigation after seeing a strange engraving on a rock at the edge of the woods. it might have been their biggest mistake to give the time of day to the stranger they met while in the cemetery.
this is definitely a work in progress, the fanfic is divergent from the original Beetlejuice plot and takes place in a town in the southern US. i have no idea if i'll continue this one, pretty much depends on if people like it or not <3
Though it was autumn, it wasn’t a particularly spooky day; to be precise, it was September 23rd and the clouds hung in an overcast above town. Tyler checked their watch, the post office closed in seven minutes; and if they didn’t get the check in the mail today, they’d have to drive the three hours to deliver rent to their landlord personally. With a quickened pace, they arrived at the post office two minutes too late, considering the last remaining worker was already in her car, and gave a few fun hand gestures as her old clunker of a car screeched out of the parking lot.
Defeated, Tyler accepted that they had to take what little bit of time off that remained after work to drive two towns over, to make rent on time; as long as they could catch the check that had now blown out of their hand and was shuffling off into the nearby woods. Scrambling into the brush, Tyler grabbed at the flimsy envelope fluttering around in the wind. Kicking up leaves and underbrush until the paper finally was caught up in an old pile of rubble.
Tyler pocketed the envelope, being sure to zip their jacket pocket and patting it for good measure. That’s when they first saw the name, scrawled into a smoother piece of the stone, was simply the word “Betelgeuse.” A quick interweb search confirmed the word to be one for a star in the Orion constellation, but it felt like a strange word to graffiti into some old, broken-up wall. Perhaps there was a passionate astronomer who also frequently partook in petty vandalism, but it made for an interesting question to ponder on the walk home.
And ponder they did. All the way home and into their private study, Tyler wracked their brain about the strange engraving in the stone. Is there anywhere I’ve seen that before? Where have I seen it before? Opening up one of the filing cabinets in the corner near their desk, full of the folders they collected in their spare time. While museum curation was a full-time job, Tyler’s personal endeavors revolved around cataloging town history and the extensive amount of folklore that haunted the narrative of the town.
After sorting through some old news clippings, lying them neatly on the desk beside the cabinet, Tyler had found what they were looking for; the place they had seen that name before. “HAUNTED GRAVEYARD? CEMETERY FALLS INTO DISREPAIR AFTER MAINTENANCE REFUSES TO RETURN,” an editorial written over 20 years ago, and, while briefly mentioned, noted the same chicken-scratch etchings of “Betelguese” into the stone face of the cemetery wall. It was unlikely Tyler had found the same engraving some decades after the wall had crumbled into bits of rubble? Was it? Tyler glanced over the news clipping again, leaving them with more questions than answers, but it couldn’t be a coincidence. 
---
About thirty minutes later, Tyler was stomping through the woods in the evening dusk, flashlight in hand, with no other motivation than a gut feeling. They didn’t know exactly what they were looking for but a force outside of their control willed them farther into the remains of the abandoned cemetery. The place screamed for some love and care, weeds and vines had made a home from the tombstones littered among the force-flattened plot of land. Even for a graveyard, which isn’t necessarily the most comforting place in the world, this graveyard felt…off. No wonder maintainence was creeped out. The hairs on Tyler’s neck were standing up, and every little noise made them jump, whipping around and jabbing the flashlight at the open air as if that were going to do something.
The rows of headstones seemed to converge at one point at the edge of the cemetery, all pointed to a tombstone, perfectly encricled by dead vegetation. Tyler stepped closer to read the dirty engraving on the headstone, their heart leaped a bit in their chest when they got to the name. “Here Lies Betelgeuse” the lone words centered on the slab, planted firmly in the dirt. There was a moment of silence before Tyler caught a glimpse of something that hadn’t been there before out of the corner of their eye. After a quick turn and confirmation that something, even more, someone, was there; a startled screech escaped Tyler’s throat and they stumbled back into the tombstone.
“Don’t scream like that, I’ll cum,” the figure cackled to himself, making a couple lewd gestures after the fact. Then he stopped dead in his tracks, and his face contorted to one more of confusion, “Wait?-”
“Oh. Um-” Tyler had managed to gather themself and held the flashlight in defense, “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t have anything for you, so just back off!”
The man was of shorter stature, maybe middle age, but Tyler couldn’t quite tell under all the dirt and grime caked onto his face. He had might as well crawled out of one of the graves, his clothes appeared in the same condition as the rest of him: tattered and worn out. Tyler and the man were still in a stand off of awkward silence, both seemingly dumbfounded by the other’s presence.
“You can see me?” The man finally said.
“Yes. I can see you?”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean: ‘Are you sure?’ Are you joking with me?”
The strange man Tyler had found in the cemetery was now cackling even harder than he had been a few moments before. Taken over by some unknown excitement that left him physically shaking and smiling, ear-to-ear, revealing unkept stained teeth.
Tyler had no idea whether they should run or call for help because something clearly wasn’t right here, they just had to figure out what was so wrong in the first place. The man finally gathered himself, he steady himself by laying a grubby hand on Tyler’s shoulder. He was still grinning, so much it looked uncomfortable.
“How long have you known you can see ghosts?” he asked.
“What?”
“Like is this a new development or are you just clueless?” Tyler still hadn’t processed the first part of his question: see the dead? Why would he ask something like that? Unless…
“Okay, champ, just gonna let you in on something,” the man continued without waiting for a response, “you can see dead people. Wanna know how I know? Sure you do. I’m dead-”
“You’re a ghost?” If the homeless looking man wasn’t bluffing, then ghosts were nothing like Tyler had envisioned, but then again, Tyler didn’t believe in ghosts. The man had been watching Tyler ponder the prospect with a smug look on his face. 
“The ghost with the most,”  he flashed another rotten-toothed grin. 
“Prove it.” Tyler folded their arms over their chest, they waited for the man to scramble and “prove” his ghostliness as the scam it was. 
“Prove it?” The man raised an eyebrow in intrigue, “Are you sure? You seem a little faint-of-oh, who the hell am I kidding?”
Tyler couldn’t have prepared themself for what happened next, the man completely removing his head from neck and handing it to them. Too say they were convinced was an understament, they had taken to hiding behind a headstone while they lost their lunch. 
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tyler could barely look the man in the eye, even if his head was back where it belonged.
“You wanted proof.”
“Like floating or walking through a wall. Not that!”
The ghost shrugged, unfazed by Tyler’s discontent, he had turned his attention to the tombstone that Tyler had perched behind, the one with his name written on it.
“So what’d you come for anyways?” The ghost asked, “Pretty funny coming to a cemetery not looking for dead people.”
“Well if you’re dying to- oh, uh… wanting to know so badly,” Tyler replied, “I just wanted to see if there was a tombstone with a specific name.”
“What name?”
“Betelgeuse.”
The ghost’s heart, if he had one, leapt in his chest. It was his chance to work his magic and find a new place to stay.
“What was that?”
“Betelgeuse?”
“Sorry, hun, I’m hard of hearing. Cobwebs in the ears, say that one more time,” he really played it up.
“Betelgeuse. Why do you even care?” Tyler huffed.
“Well. If you really wanna know,” the ghost laughed, “That’s my name, and saying it three times means we’re gonna be great roommates.”
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fanfictionalraven · 15 days
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Something Big
Title: Something Big
Summary: Jackie and Rose have a chat the night before Rose meets the Doctor.
Characters: Rose Tyler, Jackie Tyler
Word Count: 939
Warnings: N/A
Author's Note: This story was originally posted by myself on Fanfiction.net under the account drwhogirl10. It was published 10/17/2010.
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"I'll see you tomorrow!" Nineteen year-old Rose Tyler laughed, calling back to her boyfriend, Mickey Smith, as she closed the flat door. She turned, her blonde hair falling into her face as she stopped dead in her tracks. "Mum!" Jackie Tyler stood leaning against the door frame of the living room.
"What sort of hour is this?" She asked, pointing to the clock on the wall beside Rose. Turning, Rose looked at it.
"One-thirty," Rose answered quietly. She looked back at her mother who crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.
"One-thirty in the morning! Rose Marion Tyler, you've got work in the morning! Or did you get so drunk you forgot about that?" Jackie fussed. Rose huffed and rolled her eyes.
"I'm not drunk Mum! We only had a couple drinks!" She said. "I'm not a child, ya know!"
"You're barely nineteen! That doesn't give you the right to stay out at all hours! You still live in this flat that I pay for and you will still obey my rules!" Jackie nagged, pointing at Rose.
"Well then maybe I shouldn't live here anymore," Rose mumbled. Jackie's jaw dropped.
"Where are you planning on living then?" She asked, slightly stunned.
"I could move in with Mickey," Rose replied, thoughtful. Jackie laughed bitterly.
"Right! Everyone knows how your last relationship ended when you moved in with that Jimmy Stone!" Jackie exclaimed. Rose looked off to the side.
"Don't go there Mum, please," she said, quietly. Those wounds were still fairly fresh. She quickly wiped at the tear on her cheek. Jackie sighed.
"I'm sorry Sweetheart. I shouldn't have said that," she apologized, walking towards her daughter. Jackie placed her hands gently on Rose's shoulders. "It's just that I worry about you. You know that!" Rose nodded. "Don't move in with Mickey though. He's awful clingy. Like you were with him during some traumatic event!" Rose laughed lightly.
"I was there for him when his Gran died, remember Mum?" Rose said, taking Jackie by the arm. The two walked into the living room and sat on the couch together.
"I know! That's not what I meant! Like you were there when he was a child! It's odd!" She replied. Rose laughed again. Jackie took her daughters hand. "Are you gonna marry him?" She asked. Rose stopped laughing and looked at her mother, stunned.
"I don't know! I'm not really thinking about that now!" She answered. Jackie nodded, thoughtful.
"He's not your type," Jackie said, shaking her head. Rose laughed again.
"What is my type then, Mum?" Rose asked.
"Someone rugged and handsome; a little older and more mature than Mickey. He has to have a sense of humor and he needs to be very smart," Jackie said. Rose rolled her eyes.
"Is that my type or what you want for me?" She asked. Jackie looked at her sideways.
"Both! You'll realize that's your type soon enough!" She laughed. Rose joined in then both got very quiet. "What're you gonna do with your life Sweetheart? You can't work at Henrik's forever, ya know," Jackie said. She wanted a better life for her daughter than what they were living. This wasn't a bad life. They always had enough money but she wanted Rose to be able to do something big with her life.
"I told you Mum! I'm gonna make something of myself!" Rose said, all her dreams and ambitions shining in her eyes. Jackie smiled at her daughter.
"You sound like your father," she said, reminiscent. Rose beamed.
"I am though Mum! Something's coming! I can feel it!" She said, a distant look in her eyes.
"What is it Sweetheart?" Jackie asked. Rose blinked and looked at the tele. An man and woman were lost in a passionate kiss, a bright yellow light beaming behind them.
"What's that?" Rose asked. Jackie looked where Rose was looking.
"Oh, just some new show that comes on early in the morning," she answered.
"What's it called?" Rose watched the tele carefully. Jackie eyed her daughter suspiciously.
"Bad Wolf or something like that. It's really a stupid show," Jackie said, reaching for the remote and turned it off. "Now what were you talking about? You said something was coming?"
"I don't know Mum. It's just a feeling. Like my whole life is going to change soon!" Rose said. Jackie touched her daughter's cheek.
"Don't go changing on me too quick now!" She laughed. Rose smiled at her, then yawned. "Go on to bed! You've gotta work tomorrow."
"Right, g'night Mum!" Rose said as she kissed Jackie on the cheek.
"Night Sweetheart," Jackie said. Rose stood to her feet.
"Something's coming Mum. Something big!" Rose said, sleepily. Jackie shook her head and watched as Rose slowly stumbled to her bedroom. Once the door closed, Jackie walked over to the window and looked up at the stars. She closed her eyes.
"Send her someone Pete! She needs someone strong and smart and good! Please Pete," she prayed quietly. She opened her eyes just in time to see what she assumed was a shooting star fall from the sky. "Something big," she laughed to herself as she turned for her bedroom too.
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