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#also please know that by the standards of my office
stickthisbig · 2 years
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Management trainer: [general you] are probably better at resolving conflicts at work than in your personal life
Me at home or online: just leaves quietly when there’s a problem, tunes it out, works out my stress with crafts
Me at work: I’M BIGGER THAN ALL Y’ALL, I’LL HIT A MOTHERFUCKER WITH ANOTHER MOTHERFUCKER, WHO WANTS SOME
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confetti-critter · 3 months
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I played minecraft for pretty much the whole day cuz there was no work today, and now I gotta do not minecraft stuff and it sucks ass 👎👎👎👎👎
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yeagerfate · 10 months
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seeing you without makeup for the first time
characters: miguel o’hara, miles morales (earth-1610), pavitr prabhakar, hobie brown, gwen stacy
warnings: none!
notes: thanks so much to @rulaineyu for letting me use this idea! check her blog out if you’re a genshin fan, her works are really well-written and entertaining! requests are open! thanks so much for all the love on my previous posts, it means so much to me!
To be honest, Miguel doesn’t even notice. You’d been as little fatigued, having been extremely overworked lately, and just decided not to. When you visited Miguel’s office, you almost wanted him to compliment you, though you knew that wasn’t what your Miguel was like. Something in his mind was telling him something was out of the ordinary, but he just ignored it. Finally, he realizes what’s actually different when he overhears you talking about it with Hobie, (he says he likes the inconsistency), and he feels so bad for not seeing it before.
The next time he sees you, he tells you that he thinks you look pretty. He doesn’t mention the make-up thing at all because he doesn’t want you to think he’s complimenting you just to please you. When your cheeks turn a little red, and you stutter when saying thank you, Miguel smiles to himself proudly.
It doesn’t take Hobie long to notice. Sometimes, he wears make-up to his concerts, so he knows the basics. It makes him happy to see your natural face for the first time. He thinks you’re beautiful, with or without make-up, and he tells you so. “Thank you,” You said. “I think you look handsome, too, with or without make-up.” He’s a bit more clingy, which surprises you, but he just likes to see you be a bit more vulnerable than usual. Hobie also enjoys talking with you about make-up, and what you like to use. He’s not new to it, but it’s always nice to get some tips so he can look perfect!
Miles can tell you’re a bit nervous about his reaction to something, but he doesn’t know what it is. He’s aware that you’re not wearing make-up, but he doesn’t think much of it. Miles is a bit naive when it comes to beauty standards and the makeup world, so he doesn’t really know how nerve-wracking it can be to not put on anything for the first time. As always, though, he tells you that he thinks you look lovely, which is always nice to hear. On a whim, he decides to ask you about it. “Are you okay? Is there something wrong? You look a little anxious.” You grin sheepishly and tell him you were just nervous about his reaction to you not wearing make-up for the first time because of the asshole boyfriend you had before him. Good luck! Miles will not be leaving you alone for the next week at minimum :)
Even though he doesn’t wear it, Pavitr loves makeup, so he definitely notices. As always, he gushes about how beautiful he thinks you are. He holds your face in his hands and studies the natural shade of your lips, your natural eyelashes… he thinks you’re a beauty. Like Hobie and Miles, I think he’d also be a bit more clingy and affectionate. The next time Pavitr comes back to headquarters, he raves about you to Miles and Hobie, who are both happy for him and a little uncomfortable. Oh well. They’ll just have to hear about it until he goes back home!
Gwen has done your makeup multiple times, for fun and for parties, so she knows. She’s already stopped wearing makeup around you occasionally, and you were extremely supportive, so she wants to be the same for you. However, Gwen is always a bit shy when it comes to vocalizing how she feels, so she’ll feel a bit anxious. She doesn’t want you to think you look ugly without makeup, but it’s a bit nerve-wracking for her to say what she wants so say. Eventually, she gains the courage to do so, and the way your eyes brighten when she does tell you how pretty she thinks you are is something priceless.
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jhuzen · 11 months
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married life [m.reader]
this is me taking the first step in creating the househusband hcs of our tall hsr men for us gays and bi kings. happy pride ansismdkf (i mean to say that also in haitham’s post bUT OH WELL). anyway, i still hate luocha. otto trauma so true so real (honestly, his only saving grace in mhy games is ayato because he’s not blond). today, we have ourselves some househusbands.
𖦹 househusband hcs with gepard, sampo, jing yuan, blade, dan heng, caelus and old man welt, no luocha but i’m open to be convinced why i should start loving him, mostly fluff, domestic stuff, modern au though… aren’t they more modern if they can travel the space? huh. normal world au then. forgot to add that ceo reader is implied
GEPARD LANDAU
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He’s a very reluctant househusband at first, actually. He’s one who firmly believes that relationships are a team effort (and they are and should be), and thinks that it wouldn’t hurt for the both of you to work together. Of course, you encourage him regardless, and with both of your career-oriented selves, you were basically the couple that could foster a ten or so children and still be financially sound.
Serval is the one who convinced Gepard to lay low a little in his job and relax for once. You’re making a decent income a month — enough for you to be the only one working and still have a comfortable life together.
You have to thank your sister-in-law and her craftiness. She wasn’t Gepard’s sister for nothing. She knew your husband more than anyone and knew that he was too down bad to even refuse in entertaining the thought of not taking care of you. All she had to do was do a little convincing.
“If I were [Name], I sure wouldn’t mind coming home to a nice meal like this every night,” she’d muse with a hum while she ate off of Gepard’s cooking. He came home early that one night and thought to surprise you. Of course, Serval just had to taste test since she’s looking out for you, her beloved brother-in-law. “Also wouldn’t mind being taken care of by my own spouse…”
Gepard quickly folded. What if his sister was right and you wanted that kind of life? But it’s not like he also wants to quit his job just like that. So he made a gradual decrease in work until he can finally have a schedule that can commit as a househusband and occasionally help when he’s needed at work as a consultant.
Your beloved husband is a bit mid from the start — basic in cooking, in chores, but it’s his perseverance that pushes him up to S-tier househusband status. He will really go out of his way to learn recipes that you suddenly brought up in the middle of a conversation and will execute it to the highest standards. He will become a lot more meticulous in his chores around the house.
If he can, he’s definitely the type to drop by and join you in lunch. He’s a lot more free now, and if there’s nothing else to do in the house, he’ll take some lunch and go to where you work and just eat lunch together. Everyone is looking at the windows of your own office in envy while they watched you get spoon fed by your cute husband (they don’t know how embarrassed Gepard is since you technically just coerced him to feed you so people can see you on purpose).
So very attentive to you. He wakes you up early (even earlier if you have meetings where you have to discuss things to be extra prepared) for work. Your lunch is just top tier, but the plating is too cute — with the slightly uneven shapes to create cute animals. He’s the kind to even put a note in your packed lunch every time without fail.
He knows how hard you work and only wants the best for you. And when you recognize his efforts, he’s quick to get flustered from your compliments. He will fold like a wet cardboard. He’s too weak.
“Dear, please,” you could only laugh at your beloved’s winsome attitude. Currently pressed against the marbled counter of the kitchen, you can only shower him in a plethora of love-filled kisses as you expressed your unending gratitude. Your lips left tiny pecks from his cheeks down to his neck, only serving to fluster him even more.
You pulled back but not before leaving another quick kiss on his nose, “What’s got you all knotted up, love? No one’s watching.” You cooed, leaving your poor husband whining at the thought of earlier — when you so cruelly asked him to feed you in front of your subordinates while you busily ‘worked’ on your projects.
But somehow even with the unbridled embarrassment that you brought to him, Gepard couldn’t help but feel the elation engulf his entirety at the prospect of you showing him off in your own mischievous ways. Even with your busy schedule, you were more than willing to let him come inside your work and take the time off just to let him join you for lunch. He’d already heard enough drama around the neighborhood to be grateful that you can still balance your work with your marriage.
He was grateful to have you as his partner for life. And even then, he wouldn’t mind having to visit you just to feed you. It was certainly a rare thing that he’s heard partners would suggest, so to be given a privilege as seeing you everyday at work was something he would cherish more than ever.
A kiss on his temple knocked his fleeting thoughts off the rail and pulled him back to reality, blinking at your curious smile, “…Shield for your thoughts?” You inquired with a gentle tone, eager to pry just what has got your husband so spacey all of a sudden.
He only grinned before pulling you in for a proper kiss and murmured against your lips, “Just thanking my lucky stars for having you as my husband.”
Now it was your turn to be flustered.
𐂂
SAMPO KOSKI
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Your friends still think you’re a legend for even managing to wife up the untamable Sampo. But somehow, you pulled him in and he was more than willing to be a househusband. For more reasons than one.
But let’s get out the pinnacle of his reasons out of the way — it being, him living so comfortably? Financially supported by a handsome guy like you? Sign him up. He’s more than willing to take care of you while you take care of him. He’s a sleazy guy, after all. Wouldn’t wanna get married to a broke man. Kidding.
Anyway, he mostly sells the story of getting married just for benefits for laughs. But really, you’ve somehow managed to actually trap him as a prisoner of love. He’s a huge simp for you and actually considers your high-end job a bonus. A really good bonus. But other than that, you’ve got Sampo completely wrapped around your finger. And he’s a very eager househusband.
A surprisingly good househusband. He’s meticulous in his work and can cook. But what really sells him is how well he can budget and actively get discounts just by smooth talking the vendors in the market. You once went with him, telling him to go nuts and buy everything that he needs, and you came home with only just a good half of your money spent. He was scarily good and from then on, you made an oath to take notes from your husband’s amazing haggling skills.
He’s a very resourceful man. If you need anything, he’s there to lend a hand. He’s always there to fix equipments that break down. Really, you rarely get issues with the things at home, because the moment he senses that there’s something wrong, he’s already on the case. Your husband is a jack of all trades.
All he requires is a small fee of some attention and loving from you. Seriously, he will mope around and will let you know that he’s upset that you forgot to give him a goodbye kiss earlier when you left for work.
You wake up much earlier than he does, but please wake him up. He wants to cook you breakfast and see you off like a loving househusband that he is. He will sulk if you so much as even think of leaving him without waking him up. He’s a big drama queen and unless you make up for it once you get home, he will continue to walk around the house with a pout on his face.
The only way to make this man completely crumble underneath you is to spoil him. He’s working so hard with the upkeep of your shared home! If you take him out on surprise date nights, he will melt. Shower him with lavish gifts from all the money you saved up, courtesy of Sampo’s extreme bargaining. He will latch onto your arm the entire night like your pretty little arm candy (even if he’s taller than you).
Oh, right. You will get sudden visits from Natasha or even Seele and Oleg, just to check up on your married life. They’re mostly just there to whack some sense into Sampo if he’s being difficult to you. Suffice to say, they’re always surprised when they come visit your homely abode that’s clean and has a refreshing atmosphere. Seele plugs her ears every time you say it’s all because of Sampo that your house is even remotely presentable. She’s in denial.
It was a grueling day, leaving you completely vulnerable to the throes of exhaustion. You ought to take some vacation days, maybe go on a different country with your husband for a treat. Surely, he’d like that. You noticed he’s been working just as hard as you at home. Speaking of which — the reason for your home’s unfamiliar silence was in fact the lack of singing from your lively husband. You were so used to hearing his voice that the silence felt incredibly deafening when you were alone.
“Love? You home?” You called out, glancing at the shoe rack by the door to see his outdoor shoes in the same place and the indoor shoes missing. He’s here. You pursed your lips, brushing off the peculiarity and headed to the joint dining room and kitchen, seeing a nice still hot meal sitting on a nice plate. But it was the only thing on the table, no other plates or even a husband waiting on you with a smile. You peered at the food to see a card beside the plate, scribbled with a sad face.
“…What.” You sat the card back down before finally poking your head in the living room, seeing your husband watching another sad show while screwing in some panel from what you can only guess a part of your heater. You sauntered up from behind him, before grabbing his face and tilting his head up to meet your gaze.
He made no noise and had it not been for his evident pout, you would’ve only been left wondering what you did to make him so sulky again. You sighed before leaning to press a kiss against your lips. You could feel him finally smile against the kiss.
“So you still love me?” He asked, insinuating that you felt otherwise for not even giving him a kiss goodbye earlier.
“Not like I have a choice,” was your only cheeky response.
“Wha— Hey!”
𐂂
JING YUAN
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Out of everyone, he is probably the most eager one to be a househusband. He is so ready to retire. He’s been moaning about it at work constantly, about how he’s just ready to settle in somewhere nice and be taken care of. And when you decided to finally tie the knot with him, you didn’t even have to ask twice, that man is already turning in his resignation and is already making your shared home even cozier than ever.
He’s a very languid man, but that does not mean he’s going to flake out on chores. He can do them all efficiently just for the sake of getting them out of the way so he can keep relaxing after. That, and of course making sure that you come home to a clean home. Aeons know how stressful it is to come home from work and seeing your own home completely cluttered. Jing Yuan has suffered the same thing before he met you.
Jing Yuan loves you through his cooking other than sleeping in with you. He creates the greatest dishes for you. Often are you eating your lunch with so much pride. Your subordinates would come inside your office during lunchtime to pass some papers and they would see you just completely enjoying life with your husband’s cooking.
He likes to greet you with a nice warm meal after your work. And he’d just watch you eat his meals with a fond smile while you continue to talk about each of your days with each other. Of course, occasionally, he’d open his mouth and you would have to feed him as well. Yanqing would sometimes come home to such a sight and never has he seen a more domestic scene than before.
Another one of his much favored ways to show his love is through after work massages. You’d come home and be completely smothered with love just by his touches. Sometimes he’d give you a nice neck and shoulder massage while you’re eating and talking about your day. Or you could both be lounging on the sofa and he would absentmindedly massage your overworked hands.
However his most favored time spent with you is when you’re on a day off and that he would successfully persuade you into staying a little bit longer in bed with him. Just sleep until the afternoon, with limbs tangled against one another. He loves spooning his husband that takes care of him so dearly. Just feeling your back pressed against his chest while he’s nuzzling his nose into the nape of your neck. Bliss. Utter bliss.
The two of you scream old married couple. Just two old geezers enjoying their lives. It’s really such a relaxing relationship. Being married to Jing Yuan is like a vacation from your problems and him being married to you is an adventure without the nauseating exhaustion.
Yanqing is inadvertently your child the moment you got married to your husband. And suffice to say, you were far more content in your life than you could ever imagine. Never have you felt the genuine happiness swell within you the moment you came home to the two of them cooking together. You still have a slightly motion blurred picture in your phone and neither of them know about it.
Overall the most chill househusband. But even in his passivity, you can feel the radiating warmth of love for you. He just… loves you so much that he’s more than willing to take care of you and the little family that you and him have created. He will wait for you by the door with his half-lidded gaze completely fixated on you with so much adoration. He’s lucky to have you.
You were used to the hectic mornings you often faced upon waking up. It was always a rush job in the morning, speeding through all your morning routine before finally leaving for work. But today was not that day. You could tell from the way the sunlight hit your eyelids. You always left just before the sun could even come up, but right now, you had other plans.
You wanted to prepare a nice breakfast for your husband. He had been working so hard all the time, taking care of you and Yanqing with no days off unlike you. You figured you could get the day started and surprise the both of them with some of your cooking prowess. Suddenly filled with the motivation, you sat up, ready to face the first hour of your time off work for a few days.
However, your plans were soon foiled when a strong arm hooked around your waist and immediately pulled you back down on the bed without even breaking a sweat. You sighed, looking off to the side to see one golden eye peering at you sleepily. Lips turning up into a smile, you shifted to fully face him.
“Can’t even let me make you some breakfast in bed, huh?” You teased with the same fondness as the very first day you and him got married.
A quiet grunt was all your lover gave, only to follow it up with his own gruff response a minute later, “While that sounds nice, I believe I can also reap benefits just from canoodling with my husband for let’s say… until the afternoon.”
Your hands were tied at that point, and with one last charming smile from your dozing husband, you dove into his arms, letting him press some kisses on your face before falling asleep, with you following after.
𐂂
BLADE
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No one in this world knows how you managed to charm and marry Blade in the first place. Even his family considers you a miracle worker for bagging the hard to get man. You could only reminisce of the times he would give you the cold shoulder when you tried to ask him out. You were cringe but Blade somehow liked it.
Regardless, he’s one of the reluctant househusbands at first. Blade doesn’t like the feeling of not going out and making money like you. He believes that as long as he can, he will contribute to this relationship. It’s really adorable. And you were supportive of what he wants, but when he realized no one can take care of you while you’re busy being the breadwinner, he decided that he’ll take one for the team and take care of everything in the house instead.
He is meticulous in cleaning. Your house is always sparkling clean the moment you arrive at home. He’s constantly on the hunt for any dust that could taint your shared humble abode. He once read that an unclean house can cause sickness to the occupants, and he has never let a single dust touch a furniture ever since then. Your health is his priority and he will do everything in his power to keep you healthy.
You know what? Screw it, he wears his apron without a care too. He goes out of the house in a pink frilly apron you gifted him as a silly little joke and he’s not ashamed of it. Even Kafka’s incessant teasing isn’t enough to deter him from wearing it. You gave it to him and he loves it. That’s all that matters.
Surprisingly loved by your neighbors. In contrast to his gloomy disposition, he’s always seen around the market and with people’s tendency to draw closer to mysterious handsome men like him, let’s just say he’s managed to unintentionally charm your neighbors. Everyone calls you lucky for getting him, everyone calls him lucky for having a good husband that provides.
Really, he cares so little about the money you make. All he needs is your love and attention. It is imperative that you give him calls on certain times of the day, let him know that you’re still alive at the very least. It’s not like you can’t make do on such a promise either, you loved calling him just to take a break from work for a little while. Even just hearing his quiet grunts of agreement while you gossiped about your subordinates was enough.
He wakes you up… like really early. Super early. Like at least a few hours before you call in for work. His reason? To get enough time with you before you go to work. It’s adorable. You two could be just lounging at the balcony, sipping coffee or tea while you both watch the sunrise.
Speaking of which, with him comes a package. His aforementioned family. Kafka and Silver Wolf’s visits are a must. They are a part of him and now they are a part of you. Kafka could be dropping by just to chat and gossip with you (somehow both of you know a lot about people’s own businesses) or Silver Wolf would just barge in and hog all your game systems (she says no one plays them since you’re both old men so she gets the privilege). Either way you’re already used to it, and one guest room is always at the ready.
Getting married to Blade is honestly the best thing you’ve ever done in your life. You still don’t know how you pulled him, but with him resting on you while the both of you watched shows, showing you his vulnerability tells you that doing so is not an accident or a mistake.
“…Would it kill you to step back a little? It’s hard to cook.”
“But you’re so warm. So soft… so…”
Quite possibly out of all the forms of affections that you’ve expressed towards him, Blade finds your nosy hands cupping around his chest from under his clothes the least practical. Especially when you’re doing it while he’s cooking your breakfast before you’re off for work.
He flipped the omelet with ease despite his claims of difficulty just seconds ago. Of course, it wasn’t as hard when he’s standing still. But on times where he had to go get some things, you in your sleepy daze had to trudge behind him like a shadow just to persistently warm your incredibly cold hands.
Regardless, other than the difficulty in moving, Blade finds it even harder not to burn the kitchen down as his concentration dwindled with every kiss you pressed against his neck, unrelenting and incredibly soft, so filled with love in every individual peck that met his skin. His face turned a rather dark shade of scarlet while you busied yourself with him.
“Keep this up and you’re going to be late.”
“At least it’s extra time with you~” you cooed.
Blade only sighed before leaning against your back, using his free hand to softly knock into the side of your head as his form of half-assed discipline.
Well. Maybe he wouldn’t mind that extra time too.
𐂂
DAN HENG
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He’s not so much as a reluctant househusband. In fact, he relishes in the idea of just staying home and doing his work there. He likes the comfort of being able to sit things out for once after having to look after his two gremlins for friends. However, he does want to make sure that you’re always safe when you’re working.
After a lot of reassurances, he finally decides that you can handle your own. He will compensate for it by taking an extremely good care of you and your shared home. And this man does not play around. He’s sort of like Blade, excelling at everything that needs to be done not just because, but it’s to keep you safe. He cooks you healthy meals and scrubs any dirt off the face of the world.
Easily one of the greatest househusbands in the list. Dan Heng has the right temperament and while he’s often aloof to most people, when it comes to you, you could already feel how he seems more lenient, a little softer on you.
He does all his work efficiently to get them over with as fast and as best as he can so he can have time to visit you in your work. If he knows he has time, count on your beloved husband to come and bring you some freshly cooked lunch in your office. Almost everyone in your company already knows who he is. He’s the elusive husband of the big boss, coming in just to bring you some lunch.
Speaking of which, might wanna keep your subordinates in check. Dan Heng is a looker, and the fact that he’s just as considerate, combined with his mysterious nature, people are bound to be more attracted to him. Though honestly, none of their little admiration could measure up to Dan Heng’s love for you.
In his eyes, you are the only one important, right next to his own family with Himeko and the rest. And he will do all that he can to make sure that you’re alright in any aspect of your life. However even with that dedication, it’s also your job to keep him intact. He focuses so much on you that he sometimes forgets to wind down.
Taking him out on something with a serene atmosphere usually does the trick. Bring tons of books to entertain yourselves, and if the stories get too old, you chat about things you have yet to tell each other. Dan Heng really appreciates the effort you put in, investing your time in him despite the fact that you’re running a conglomerate, but even then just a little gesture from you is enough for him to know how grateful you are for his own efforts as well.
Old married couple 2.0. March said so herself when she decided to barge into your home to show you her pictures from her recent travels. She and the raccoon are tied at the tally of visits. Often they just crash just to make sure Dan Heng hasn’t driven you insane yet with his very… unromantic nature. Safe to say March still couldn’t believe that dear old Dan Heng was the first to pop the question in tying the knot.
Speaking of unromantic, your husband does come off as one, often giving you practical solutions than giving you any words of comfort when you’re stressed. And perhaps it’s because you understood that’s his way of romancing you that you and him ended up married in the first place.
Exhaustion was more of a friend than a foe after having to bury yourself in the tower stacks of paperwork. It’s times like these that you had to wonder if running the family company is even worth it.
“I’m too tired to driiiiive,” you whined, looking at the spreadsheets in exasperation.
And as if he had a sixth sense, a knock on your door was heard and you gave the green light with little regard for the person behind the door. You then looked up and almost cried at the sight of your beautiful husband, with two coffees in hand.
“Come on, I’ll take you home,” it was all he had to say to prompt what little motivation you had left in your system, letting your sluggish self spring back to life. You bound to him with a grateful smile on your face and greeted him with an embrace.
You took one cup from him and graced him with a kiss on his cheek, “Hang on, let me get some take home work. I need to at least finish a good third of this.”
Your poor husband was a lot more worried than he could let on with his stoic face — seeing you on the ropes, completely hard at work and barely functioning at the sheer exhaustion was almost enough to tempt him into stopping you from bringing home your work. Alas, he supported you regardless and only thought to compensate for your extra work with an even better dinner.
“Anything you want for tonight?” He asked, thoughtful as always.
“Mmm… chicken fried rice?”
“Chicken fried rice it is.”
𐂂
CAELUS
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Not a single soul expected for this man to get married. Everyone thought he’d just end up on the streets willingly, constantly rummaging through trash can after trash can, falling in love with one and settling down with it in his own odd way. Surprise surprise, he is now a househusband that digs through the high end trash cans placed inside your shared home.
Quite frankly, if Caelus was being honest, he also did not expect to trip into you and quite literally fall in love. And for you to reciprocate it. He always thought you two were just the best of friends, with you supporting his hobbies with little to no judgment. So imagine his surprise that he keeps feeling every time he wakes up right next to you (and right next to his five foot pillow of a trashcan, but it’s a separate affair on its own).
Moving aside your husband’s very odd addiction of living the life of a trash panda, Caelus is actually a pretty decent househusband. His specialities are mostly the meals he makes for you. They’re always so delicious and is often the highlight of your day even without him around.
He’s very active around the neighborhood and is always armed with the latest news around town. The other stay at home spouses love him. And you were quite surprised to find out that he’s far more connected in the very place you both live in than you could ever be. When you’re free, you’d sometimes accompany him to the market and somehow end up staying very late because a lot of people recognize him and seem to want to chat with him.
Caelus parades you around as his beloved husband and people are just dropping jaws when they realize you have definitely been interviewed in one of those famous magazines about businesses and all that jazz.
Surprisingly, just like Sampo, Caelus is your man when it comes to spending wisely and learning how to haggle. He knows his way around almost everything and even you couldn’t help but be proud of yourself of fishing out such a dashing man that is wise in finances. Good man, honestly.
One fact about him that you like are his skills in caring for children. There’s something so wonderfully domestic whenever you would come home early and see him playing with the children — Hook and Clara, if you can recall. He’s mostly just babysitting for them on days that he’s not completely hammered to death with housework.
His favorite thing to do with you is grocery shopping at night. Just the two of you cruising around every aisle, more often than not, you’d push the cart with him in it getting gradually buried by every item you decided to purchase. It’s a good way to spend some time together while getting something productive done. And perhaps coax you into buying a little more food than you and him intended in the first place. Dan Heng always advices you not to be too swayed by your husband antics… but it’s clearly not working.
Caelus is a silly little man, with his weird eccentric jokes and his equally strange fascination for all things related to trash cans. But it’s probably because of this that you found yourself enamored. He is your respite in the suffocating world of your workforce. He pushes you in situations you never thought would be fun unless he was with you.
“If you loved me, you would’ve gotten ten more boxes of cookies.”
“And if you loved me, you wouldn’t be willingly burying yourself in that cart instead of helping me pick between chocolate or strawberry milk.” You quipped back with a snarky grin, not even bothering to look at your childish husband who continued to be sprawled out in the cart at ten in the evening while you shopped.
Caelus pouted, you always did make good points. It’s why he could never win an argument against you. Or maybe he could… if he wasn’t so completely smitten at the sight of you. You were always seen as the dignified boss of your company, dressed in three piece suits that could suffocate anyone and their wallet.
But here you were, dressed in a loose shirt (likely one of his just judging from the fit) and some pair of joggers that you haphazardly threw on.
Absolutely breathtaking.
He lent out a hand to reach for the carton of flavored milk that you finally chose, adding it onto the pile. He waited until you were at the end of the cart, getting ready to muscle your way through pushing an incredibly heavy cart, courtesy of your husband.
Caelus looked up at you, “Don’t I at least get a kiss for helping out?”
“Cae, I’m dying from pushing you. How ‘bout we entertain that incentive once you got out of the cart and started helping me, hm?”
Maybe he’s just a simp, but how could he deny his demanding husband’s whims?
𐂂
WELT YANG
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This old man is the definition of a reluctant retiree. Well, it’s not actually a retirement for him. He still gets to be the voice of reason, only that he won’t actually personally animating. Who’s to blame? You. To be accurate, this old man officially decided to step down from his hands-on job as an animator so he can be a househusband. You’re a priority after all, and only the heavens know how bad you need to be taken care of.
Welt joins the ranks of a godly househusband. He knows his way around almost every single thing that needs to get fixed. His cooking? Top tier. His housework game? Absolute perfection. Floors are swept, counters are wiped and dusted, sheets and clothes are washed and pressed. He is perfect.
And on top of that, he still manages to balance his work from home as the consultant for any new anime that is about to be produced and can still care for you without even breaking a sweat. Old man Welt is always pulling through.
So let’s get this out of the way — actual old married couple. Not just vibes. You two are old men who look at the screen with squinted eyes. Well, only Welt does that while you laugh at him and then proceed to forget where you placed your own phone despite being on it just a few minutes ago.
Regardless, you live a much more balanced life, just two husbands cruising through life with little worries. You live on a good neighborhood, living comfortably and get a lot of visits from yours and Welt’s friends/family. Most of which are from the trio and Himeko. You and Welt always host these family dinners on weekends where everyone is free. Life is good.
However despite all the glamour of living a comfortable life in this marriage, there is one glaring difference between you and Welt — mostly it’s the fact that you have worse time management than he does and often gets the short end of the stick, always pummeled to death with your paperwork that could leave anyone in a fit of raw despair. Welt looked at your work the one time you left to answer a phone call from office and shuddered at the heavy load.
Welt is essentially your clock when it’s time to unwind from work. You have a tendency to overwork at times and it’s something that Welt always makes sure to keep an eye out for. He just wants what’s best for you, and oftentimes, what’s best is for you is to finally get some shuteye after suffering through another overnight that you pulled.
Also, there is an unspoken rule of not letting any man with long blonde hair inside your home. It’s just a house rule. The top of all other house rules in fact, as it takes the most priority in fulfilling.
Regardless, Welt is so… househusband-shaped. He knows what to do as one and does a damn good execution of it all. Maybe it’s because of his compassionate self that you were quick to fall for the old man. He didn’t even have to try and show off, all he had to do was be himself and you’d still give him the world with every penny you’ve earned from your job.
A taut frown tugged onto Welt’s lips as he squinted on the labels from the spices that Himeko sent from her recent overseas trip. Not that he didn’t trust his good friend’s tastes in any form of flavor, it’s only that he wanted to make sure none of it had any ingredient that could probably send you into an anaphylactic shock. Yes, he is this meticulous when it comes to you.
Alas, his cautiousness grants no extra clear sight in viewing the labels and he struggled, holding them in different proximities. Are the characters really that small intentionally or are they so incoherent because they manufacturers made an error in the sizing the font before printing it on the packaging.
Fortunately for him, you came into the rescue as you plucked the packaging from his hands. Welt didn’t need to look up to see the same smug smile plastered on your face whenever you’d catch him doing the same thing to his phone. Well, he loved looking at you so he did it nonetheless.
“Having trouble again, old man?” You teased and Welt only had to sigh in response. “Is this from Himeko’s package?”
Your endeared husband nodded, “Of course. I had to see what else she gave us. And I’m looking over the ingredients so I can keep you out of the hospital as best as I can.” He turned to the stove and lowered the heat. “Now kindly read it for me, dear.”
You only nodded, flipping over the packet, “Sure thing.”
There was a silence that followed, with Welt expecting you to run your mouth about the ingredients already. He looked back to you…
…And saw you squinting at the same bundle of text that he’s been staring at.
Welt scoffed, playful and light in nature, “And you call me old.”
“It’s the manufacturer’s fault…!!”
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roseglazedlens · 8 months
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⦑ 𝐛𝐨𝐛𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 ⦒✶.*
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pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn! reader synopsis: leon tries bubble tea for the first time, much to his reluctance (he likes it!) content: fluff, established relationship, rebecca chambers & chris redfield mentioned. « 1.4 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »
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“How far is this place?” Leon lets out a heavy grunt, sight unbearable as the sharp sunrays glaring onto the scorching asphalt. Heat so nauseating it permeates through his clothing to form sweat at areas less desirable.
Leon would rather cuddle next to you at home right now, under the lulling breeze of the air conditioning. But you insisted– no matter the heat nor the distance, you must have your hands on this drink in this thickened fog of heat. It’s perplexing how you find space in your belly after such a hearty lunch today.
You loop both arms around his open elbow – propping up just for you to hold – as you flush your front onto his sides. Partial bribery, partial gratitude for joining you on this conquest despite the harsh weather conditions.
Leon lands his gaze on you – your lashes flutter, body fidget closer. There is no way he can deny you now. That you know and took full advantage of every single time. He groans in defeat, tilting his torso back as if to heave the weight of his well-satiated belly.
“What is this bubble tea? And why do you like it so much?” You call it a bubble tea, but he calls this concoction a monstrosity. Leon will never understand how one can make a drink already perfect imperfect?
“Oh, Leon. I’m about to show you a whole new world.” You spin your heels, skipping a little in the firm grip of his arms.
“I’m surprised you still have an appetite.” Leon’s tone sounds faintly like a jab.
“There’s always room for bubble tea.” He suspects you say this motto often with the way the words uttered so instantly.
Leon grumbles Rebecca’s name underneath his breath. Since you discovered it from Rebecca’s introduction, this supposed ‘habit’ soon evolved closer to an obsession. Replacing your usual coffee order with a tall plastic cup of milk tea. With how Rebecca sweetens her coffee, whatever she recommends can’t be good for you.
“I don’t think I want bubbles in my tea.” Leon tightens his lips.
“It’s not real bubbles, Lee.” You chuckle as you run your hands along his arms. “You’ll love it, trust me!”
Hand in hand with yours, Leon follows your footsteps into a slender laneway, shying away from rows of corporate office on the main street. Red lanterns hang high, adorn by banners of words you can’t read. You find familiar merchants chant a series of today’s sales across the street, hubbub of both young and old, nesting the air in this hidden away part of town. Even during a weekday, Chinatown is busy – endearingly so.
You approach a humble corner shop you often frequent. Walking up the front of the counter with one confident stride, only taking a step back at the realisation of your confused boyfriend.
Nudging at Leon’s elbow, you point at the signage that displays their extensive list of flavours, options and customisations. “Get the winter melon milk tea with extra boba.”
“Get your own.” He scoffs at your audacity.
“I want mango. But I also wanna try the winter melon tea.” You cling onto his arm, flushing your body onto his. Puffed cheeks, downturned eyebrows – you know he can’t say no. Leon can’t ever say no to you when you do that face.
“So I’m your experiment.” He sighs underneath his breath, but his countenance softens when he sees your toothy smile as the line moves forward. “What does winter melon taste like, anyway?”
“I dunno. That’s why you’re trying it for me.”
Before he can protest, it’s your turn to order. You face the register, shuffling out your membership card from your bag to beep it in front of the scanner.
“What would you two like to have?”
“One winter melon boba milk tea and one mango green tea...” Leon glances over the size options. “Medium, please.”
“Mini boba or standard boba?” The cashier fiddles with the system before them.
Leon pauses, contemplating out loud. “What does that mean?”
“What size boba do you want?” They repeat once more, gesturing to the list of toppings which puzzles him even more.
“Standard, thanks. Whatever it means.” A prompt nod, buttons are pressed. “Ice and sugar levels?”
“Standard everything.” Leon tries to sound calm, but the words escaped with a snapping edge.
Leon makes his payment, frustrated by the entire experience, but it all the more teases a giggle out of you to see the usual composed Leon fluster over ordering a simple drink. The barista calls out your number. You two occupy an empty table, drinks in hand.
The drink sits before Leon, black beads declining to the bottom, tall cup sealed with a plastic film – Leon has seen you do this a few times. He should know what to do. Leon lines the straw on top of the film, with a small burst, puncture the film through the pointy end. The other hand grips the cup a tad too firm, the impact splashing the tea from the puncture all over his hand.
Your laughter bursts at the sight – chuckling so hard that Leon is asking for napkins from the front counter, hands still a dripping mess. He hates you for it – just a little though – for not warning him.
“That went well.” He grumbles, wiping off the droplets from his fingers with the white napkin.
“It’s okay – I've been there, done that.” You repeat his motions, thrusting your straw in your drink with practiced ease before taking a generous sip. You rummage your phone out of your pocket, pointing the lens directly at him.
“What?” Leon fiddles with the straw, swirling the substance under his fingertips.
“Go on.” You tilt your head in encouragement. “Take a sip.”
“I can’t drink if you’re recording me like this.” He broods on the words slightly.
“Drink!” You demand out of impatience, waving your hands more exaggeratedly.
Leon gazes inside the straw, the thick pipe designed for easier travel of any toppings within. He is hesitant, especially with you watching intently at his every movement and reaction. He hopes you never send this video to Chris; Leon will never recover from the embarrassment if so.
“Here goes nothing.” With a deep breath, Leon sucks the liquid from the straw.
The liquid makes contact first: a blend of tea and sugary syrups complementing each other; the dew of wintermelon arousing a soft sweetness that is easy to consume and just as addictive. Flavourful, but not overwhelming so. Suddenly, something round and slimy enters his mouth through the pipe.
Leon winces, taken aback. Bites on it to find it chewy. Then swallows. Doesn’t taste like anything in particular.
“What are these made of?”
“Those are tapioca, it’s nice and chewy isn’t it?”
Leon nods, taking another sip, savouring the taste of all the flavours combined. With how invested he is sipping his drink, you can’t help but smile as the levels goes down steadily. He notices you staring.
“Do you… want to try?” He takes the straw out of his mouth, passing it over to you.
You light up, moving in so quickly it almost shove him aside. Sorry Leon, you should have known that your love for bubble tea is above your love for him.
“Is this what wintermelon tastes like? I love it!” You take a sip. Leon tries your drink, nodding in approval before moving your cup back to you. But you don’t, instead, with an almost guilty tone, said: “Do you wanna... swap?”
“Nice try – but no. You made your choice, stick with it.” Leon scoffs, removing his drink off your hands, which leads you to pout miserably.
After Leon's signal, you two leave the shop. Leon takes you to all the shops you want to visit – and you find your gaze trailing to his drink that is going down much faster than yours.
“So… what do you think about the tea?” You ask, hoping to get any kind of admittance on how this drink isn’t so bad after all.
“It’s okay… I don’t mind it.” Leon keeps his praise short, feigning playful stubbornness.
You see through him immediately, lighting up, before stealing another sip from his. “Back here again tomorrow?”
Leon’s lips upturned into a smile, but he lets you take another sip – which he will regret later, with how fast you’re consuming. His hand places gently on your head. Shaking his head in disbelief, fully aware that he is powerless against you – and you are likely to make a return trip together. Anything to make you happy.
“Get your self together, sugar addict.”
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i was tempted to make reader chinese poc since i'm chinese myself, but didn't to make reader more relatable haha (missed opportunity tho)i'm sorry for making ur bf order at the counter (ordering bubble tea for the first time is so daunting) also! thank you @sporeghost for beta reading this & literally held my hand through a few sentences, especially 2nd last line, it's not mine!! thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @valsthea @sporeghost @daydreamrot (pm me for tags)© roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.
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starlostt5 · 7 months
Text
Wrong answer
pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader
summary: Spencer gives you a wrong answer to a totally reasonable question
warings: none?
a/n: don't take this too seriously I just think it's funny
masterlist
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_________________________________________
Spencer fucked up, he doesn't know exactly how but he knows he did. How?
Well after your conversation last night you slept on the couch, protesting. What? He didn't know.
This morning, you went to work without him and purposely made him coffee without sugar.
Spencer tried to talk to you but your replies were very short and cold, it didn't take a profiler to know that you were angry.
"What did you do?" JJ asked him the moment he stepped into the office.
You two were the favourite bau couple, and everyone loved you. It was easy for you two to fall in love, and of course, you didn't let that impact your work. When your relationship was still new to the members of the team you would get teased a lot but now you were just boring happy couple.
"I don't know." Spencer says honestly, he's stumped his memory does not help here, he genuinely doesn't know what's wrong.
"Sure, then why did your girlfriend come to work looking like that." JJ points at your table where you sit looking absolutely pissed. As if you feel eyes on you, you turn around and give Spencer a side eye.
"Whatever it is, fix it." Spencer laughs awkwardly and starts walking towards you that's when Emily calls everyone up for a meeting.
Before Spencer can catch up you're already bolting to the briefing room.
And then you sit on the other end of the table.
"Uh? Should I start?" Penelopie looks at you and then at Spencer.
"Actually, Garcia, let's see if everyone on the team is okay to continue. Spencer, Y/N?"
"Yes it's fine." Spencer says but at the same time you say
"Nope."
"Please share with the group." Rossi says.
"Get this Spencer said be doesn't love me." you say it dramatically with a sad sigh.
"What? I never said that I-." Spencer is shocked he never said that.
flashback
You and Spencer are having a lazy night his head is in your lap, he's reading something and you're watching TV.
"Spence." you say softly playing with his hair.
"Hm" his reply noncommittal.
"I have a question for you." That gets his attention so he closes his book and looks at you.
"Anything baby."
"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"
"No sweetheart, then you'd just be a worm. They have really small brain, barely 300 neurons and they don't have thoughts or feelings so therefore you wouldn't be you if you were a worm."
You gasp offended that your boyfriend would say such a thing.
"No but I would be me but in worm form."
"That's not possible, besides it would never work physically." Spencer groans when you stand up and push him off the couch.
"Ouch?"
end of flashback
"He said he wouldn't love me if I was worm."
Gasps are heard around the table and Spencer thinks this is an inside joke.
"Really, Spencer?" JJ asks with crossed arms.
"But that's a worm-" before Spencer could say anything else JJ gives him a light slap at the back of his head.
"Okay, okay. I would love you if you were a worm or anything and everything else. And if it wasn't obvious I do love you now." Spencer says and you melt right then and there.
"Awh, I love you too but you just admitted you'd be in love with a worm so I should consider my standards." that gets a laugh out from everyone.
"But- I just what?"
"Yes you're the love of my life, now we need to catch some bad guys."
You say as you clap him on a shoulder and grab his hand as you're sitting down next to him.
You also give him a quick kiss after apologising in advance for the PDA.
"So...."
[THE END]
likes comments and reblogs are appreciated <3
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lila-lou · 6 months
Text
✨ His only exception - Pt. 1/? ✨
Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader
Warnings: Language, Soldier boy being too rough
Word Count: 1394
A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨
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You were currently lying on your stomach on the sofa, completely engrossed in your phone.
It's been a year already.
12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another.
Of course, the job in the field, as you always affectionately called it, was extremely dangerous, but damn interesting and exciting. Until today, you didn't know why Butcher wanted you on his team so badly, but after a few unsuccessful attempts to get him to talk, you finally gave up. You weren't particularly talented when it came to fighting or stuff like that. You also had no idea about technology. Of course, you knew the quickest way to track down and locate Supes, but the other 11 girls on your team knew that too. So, you didn't know why you were chosen, but now you didn't care. Finally something exciting happened in your life and you were more than grateful for that.
Your love life on the other hand, was still a complete disaster. You're 20 years old and still single as fuck. It wasn't that you didn't have chances, certainly not, it was more that you wanted a man who could flash you. You wanted magic. A crackling and burning when he looks at you. But so far, all the men you've met have been the exact opposite. And if your mother taught you anything, it's to never settle for less.
So, here you were. In shorts and a crop top in the living room of your shared apartment.
Since the Team around Butcher has expanded with you, the Team got a new apartment. Not particularly luxurious, but not completely crappy either.
However, since the heating in your room is currently broken, you had to make do with the couch in the living room. While everyone else was already asleep, you scrolled through Instagram, checking out what your old coworkers were up to and what lies the media was currently spreading.
"Why aren't you sleeping, doll face?".
It was Soldier Boy's rough voice that startled you. When you turned your head to the side, you could see his eyes glued to your bare legs. But typical, he didn't care that you caught him staring. He plopped down on the sofa next to your feet and took a sip from his whiskey bottle without averting his gaze. There was nothing you could do as the blush rose to your face. You cleared your throat before sitting up.
“I don’t know”, you mumbled before looking at him for a second. “Somehow I’m not tired”, you added, looking away again. It was impossible to hold his gaze for much more. Despite the fact that you were the only person Soldier Boy was nice to, nice by his standards, you found him extremely intimidating. Even now, as he sat there, almost like a normal person in his gray sweatpants and black hoodie, he radiated this strong superiority.
When it became clear that there was no way Soldier Boy could be locked up again and Butcher could use all the help he could get against Homelander, he convinced Soldier Boy to rejoin his team.
Nobody knew how the hell he did it, but he did.
Butcher had recruited you and Soldier Boy almost at the same time. You were both the ‚new guys’ so to speak. Maybe that's why you got along somewhat.
“Well, I know fucking ton of ways to make you tired, Sweetheart”, he winked at you, making you roll your eyes. “Are you going to stop trying at some point?”, you mumbled, reaching for your Ben & Jerry’s on the table. “As soon as I can finally spread those pretty legs of yours”, he grinned cheekily.
You didn't think much of it. Ben was Ben and fucked everything that came his way. You knew that by now. Well, everyone on the team knew that. It wasn't even two weeks before Butcher banned him from bringing women home. The sounds those girls did, sounded like something out of a porno and kept everyone awake for two weeks.
“You’re disgusting,” you remarked quietly before putting the first spoonful in your mouth.
“Whatever”, he took another sip.
"Why are you still awake?", you asked. "I've slept enough", he replied almost bitterly. “Besides…if Everyone is sleeping, I hear your every little movement. Every tap on your phone. Every fucking breath you take… Try sleeping like that”, he murmured.
“Sorry”, you mumbled.
“Yeah, whatever doll face”.
You spent the next 60 minutes staying quiet and watching TV. In between, Ben couldn't help but mutter derogatory comments about women from commercials or the actual Movie you watched and its plot. At some point your nerves were on edge and you couldn't help but let out an annoyed groan.
“Do you have a fucking problem over there?”, Ben mumbled, looking over at you.
"You're repeating yourself! ‘Everything used to be better’ – that’s annoying”, you imitated him.
Without meaning to, you started a discussion. Neither of you was angry or aggressive, but both of you wanted to be right and keep the other quiet. However, the discussion quickly became heated. After a few minutes, the mood changed completely. Ben absolutely wasn't having neither your attitude nor your - in his eyes - disrespectful behavior towards him. Soldier Boy. Americas fucking first hero.
You could see Ben tense up. He got up from the couch and stood in front of you, building himself up. He clearly was about to snap.
“Know what the fucking best part was? Nobody was a fucking cocktease like you! No woman would dared to dance around with such tight little panties in front of me and just not let me fuck ‘em!”.
You just sat there and looked up at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.
"Ben, I...". With your eyes still on him, you searched for the right words, but you hadn't found any. All these months you thought Ben was just kidding. You never took his lewd comments, compliments or his staring seriously, quite the opposite. By now you thought it was just one of his traits. He held your gaze with his arms crossed. He raised an eyebrow expectantly. His fingertips tapped his upper arm. Knowing that he wouldn't rest until you gave him an answer that was acceptable to him, you tried your best.
“I didn't think you'd mind. I… I´m not your type at all? I thought you`re into older women”. You now looked at him a little confused.
“Oh, don’t act fucking dumb now! I know women like you. Act all innocent at first, make men horny and then don't let anyone touch you! This is actually a lot worse than a slut admitting she's a slut!”, he spat.
Unfortunately, your hand was faster than your brain as you lashed out, hitting him on the cheek.
Your breath hitched as you saw Ben raise both eyebrows in surprise before his jaw twitched in anger.
"Shit! Ben… I…”.
You couldn't stutter any longer because Ben was already pushing you firmly against the wall by your upper arms.
Thousand thoughts ran through his head and they all revolved around you.
Ever since he first saw you, he was torn. Soldier Boy didn't know if he wanted to kill you, fuck you, torture or fucking marry you. He couldn't understand his own feelings. He didn't know what the fuck he felt. Even now his fantasies fluctuated like hell.
You were only human. With the blink of an eye he could squash you like a puny fly. But then he would never be able to look into those beautiful (y/e/c) eyes again. He would never be able to hear your voice again. He had dreamed so often of you lying beneath him, completely exhausted, shaking and moaning. Screaming his name in sheer desperate.
Just like that his intrusive thoughts won. Without any warning, he smashed his lips into yours, followed by his body.
———————————
A/N: I was wondering if anyone would like me to make this into a multi-part story. Pls let me know 🥰
Part 2
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stormy-river · 1 month
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Transcripts from the Humanity Hotline 7
As I finished this, I discovered it's been exactly one year since I posted the last Transcript. A lot has happened in that year; I've graduated college :) . I want to thank everyone for the support I've received, and I hope to get back into some of my creative projects and give you guys an opportunity to laugh, and maybe learn something. This one is inspired by a request from @a-romantic-twst from forever ago; I hope it was worth the wait (sorry about that). (It's about periods if anyone's uncomfortable with that and wants to skip this one.)
------
Operator: "Hi, my name is Mindy. How may I help you today?"
Caller: "Hello, Mindy, I am very concerned about one of the humans on my ship."
O: "What seems to be the problem?"
C: "Well, I'm the chief medical officer and this particular human has been on the ship for just over two Earth months now. On two separate occasions during that time, she has requested strong painkillers citing 'Shark Week' as the reason. I looked into what 'Shark Week' is, and found an Earth television special about certain aquatic predators, and I'm unsure how that could cause a human physical pain lightyears from Earth?"
O: "Interesting, is there anything else you can tell me about this human during these events?"
C: "Yes, I've also received reports from other crewmembers around these events that this human is not as outgoing as usual, and shows signs of discomfort with facial expressions and changes in appetite, but does not respond well to the standard psychological protocols for team building and social connection."
O: "What about the timing? You said this has happened twice, correct? How much time was between them?"
C: "Yes, I've documented both with dates. The human requested the painkillers twice, 28 days apart. The crew reported signs of distress for a few days following each request, and two times in the day before the first request."
O: "Alright, I believe your human is using the phrase, "Shark Week" as a euphemism for the start of the menstrual cycle, which is often referred to as a 'period'. To put it simply, one of the female reproductive organs sheds its inner lining roughly once an Earth month, lasting anywhere from a few days to a full week."
C: "Similar to how the Rythyani shed and replace their stomach linings?"
O: "Yes, though the uterus has blood vessels that extend into that lining, so shedding also causes bleeding."
C: "Bleeding? How much blood is lost? Why has she not requested bandages or a transfusion?"
O: "For most, a period is not life-threatening. The amount of blood loss does not require a transfusion to replace, or bandages to stop, though iron deficiency may be a concern for some that can be easily remedied through their diet. Ultimately, your human will know her body and how to handle her cycle best. We learn to deal with periods from a relatively young age. You should have received a human anatomy and physiology textbook when the first human joined your crew. Do you have it?"
C: "Yes, though I do admit I have not yet had the time to read it."
O: "That's alright. The chapter on human reproductive systems goes into more detail about the biology of the menstrual cycle than I can tell you. For the time being, make sure your human knows that she can ask for support if needed, and inform your crew that not all humans will be happy all the time, and they don't need to be. Over time, you will gain a better understanding your humans' patterns. Until then, trust them to express their needs, and talk to them if you have specific concerns. I can give general advice, but they will know themselves best."
C: "Thank you for clearing up the confusion, Mindy, I will look into this and update the protocols as necessary. I have no more questions for you at this time."
O: "You are very welcome, please don't hesitate to call again if something else comes up."
End Transmission
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katiexpunk · 7 months
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Master List
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Hi, I'm Katie! I'm just a lil fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy. I write for Pedro Pascal characters, and will forever be a Joel Miller apologist. You'll catch me dead before I use Y/N. My requests are open. I love to make new friends, so feel free to slide into my DMs and ask me anything, send in a request, or just say hi.
I do not consent to my fics being fed to AI or used to make AI chat bots.
For fic updates, please follow my notifs blog: katiexpunkupdates
Also the fact that I have a masterlist blows my fucking mind. To all of my lovely followers and moots who have been with me on this journey, thank you for encouraging me, and for reading. Ilysm. Enjoy!x Most Recent Fics:
+ Fuck Me, Fill Me (posted 4/20/2024) + Dream of Me (updated) | Dream of Me Part II (new) + Caller Number Nine + The Invited + Desert Dust | Desert Dust from Joel's POV
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🔥 smut | 🖤 fluff | 🕶️ dark/noncon/dubcon/DDDNE
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Series
Sex On Fire - Complete 🔥🖤 Read on AO3 Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller and Fem!reader | AU Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
++++ To Protect & Serve - On Hiatus 🖤🔥
Pairing officer!Joel Miller and Fem!Reader | AU
Part 1
Parts 2-4: On hiatus from this WIP; I'll get there!
Series Summary: You're a small-town reporter, living a life dedicated solely to your work and the relentless pursuit of truth. It's all pretty routine, almost too easy, albeit exhausting. Little did you know that the one thing you could never have predicted was the arrival of Officer Joel Miller. Suddenly, your story takes an unexpected turn, writing itself in ways you could have only dreamt of as he shows you what it really means to protect and serve.
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28 Floors - Complete 🔥🖤 Read on AO3 Pairing Joel Miller and fem!Reader | AU Series Summary: You're a good girl. A senator's daughter who is always there to show your support to your father. What he doesn't know is that his best friend, Joel Miller, is practically the only real reason you show up to events to support him. After one night of schmoozing, you and Joel end up in an elevator alone together. Joel Miller has 28 floors with you, and you bet he's gonna use them.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
One Shots:
Desert Dust | Read on AO3 🔥🖤
Summary: You're a small-town waitress in a highway town in Arizona with a standard, safe life. You never really thought you needed more -- until you met Joel Miller.
++++ Fuck Me, Fill Me | Read on AO3 🔥🖤 Summary: Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break. You spent years successfully avoiding one. Except things are different now, you're ready for more. Your husband Joel is more than happy to oblige. ++++
Crying Over Spilt Detergent | Read on AO3 Pairing Joel Miller and fem!Reader | AU | 🔥🖤 Summary: You've had a no-good, really shitty, bad day. You decide to catch up on your growing laundry pile, only for your day to get worse as you make a giant mess of the detergent. Joel Miller helps you clean it up, and he cheers you up in the process. ++++
Daddy's Girl | Read on AO3 Pairing Joel Miller and fem!Reader | AU | 🔥🕶️ Summary: You and Joel end up at home in bed after a long night. You want to orgasm, so you decide to take matters into your own hands while Joel watches. Joel has other thoughts about the matter. ++++
Dream of Me | Dream of Me Part II | Read on AO3 Pairing Joel Miller and fem!Reader | AU | 🔥🕶️ Summary: In the dark of the night, temptation beckons. You make a silent vow to share your secret with Joel when he wakes tomorrow, but for now, you find yourself unable to resist this opportunity, much like the pulse between your thighs. ++++
The Art of Noticing - 🔥🖤🕶️ | Read on AO3 Pairing Joel Miller and fem!Reader | TLOU Universe Summary: In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness. That was until it almost got you killed. And Joel Miller hates you for it. 
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Diner Girl - 🖤🔥🕶️ | Read on AO3 Pairing Joel Miller and female!Reader | AU Summary: You frequent your local dinner pretty often, not just because you love their pancakes with extra syrup, but because your best friend Sydney is a waitress there. You've heard her talk about her hot boss, Joel, every now and then but you've never had the pleasure of meeting him; that was until one morning, after getting unexpectedly laid off, you decided to drown your feels in syrup and love from your bestie. Joel offers you a job, and he shows you the ropes in more ways than one.
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Nightmare Before Christmas 🕶️🔥 | Read on AO3 Pairing dark!Joel Miller and Fem!Reader | AU
Summary: As an escort, you’ve found yourself in some pretty fucked up situations before. Years of experience have taught you to navigate such situations with a combination of tact and assertiveness. Most of the time the men who exude an air of sleaze shrivel back into the corner, embarrassed and limp dicked.  Most of the time.  Tonight is not one of those times. This one is dead dove do not eat. Mind the warnings.
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Asks:
Run the Table | Read on AO3 Pairing Joel & Tommy Miller and fem!Reader | AU 🔥
Summary: You're home for Christmas, only to find yourself there for the New Year. You decide to blow off some steam, only to end up at Joel's Place, your old local watering hole. Bits of your past get dredged up, and before you know it, Joel and Tommy have you bent over a pool table.
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Tell Me A Secret | Pairing Joel Miller and fem!Reader | TLOU Universe🔥
Summary: You're an artist. You aren't quick to share that fact, but Ellie is fast to figure it out. It’s not long before all of Jackson knows. Your favorite muse, though, is Joel Miller. He has no idea. Until he does. A morning horse ride turns into so much more.
Collaborations:
Little Mouse | Read on AO3 Pairing biker!Joel Miller and fem!Reader | AU 🔥🕶️ In collaboration with the amazing @josephquinnswhore
Summary: Date night. Your favorite. You were dressed up and ready for a good time, only to find out that your sleazeball boyfriend was really just a jerk. Stood up and now alone in a bar on the bad side of town, you quickly come to realize you shouldn’t be there for more reasons than one. An unexpected savior to your shit night, a masked motorcycle rider quite literally saves your life, not caring whose blood was on his hands as a result. His only ask as a token of your appreciation? That you go for a ride with him. What could ever possibly happen?
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Sugar, Spice and Please Fuck Me Nice | Pairing Neighbor!Joel Miller and fem!Reader 🔥🖤
In collaboration with my Slutty Smutty Sister @sydneyinacoma
Read on A03 | Part 1 & Part 2
Summary:  Part 3 of @sydneyinacoma's Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice series. Joel is your new hot neighbor and after a sexy night alone with him on Halloween (where he literally makes you squirt (!!) on his couch, you run into him after a long week at work and you two finally go on a proper date. You two eat burgers; go to a fair, and then he fucks you like it's his last day on earth. Yep :) Leftovers | Read on AO3 Pairing Joel Miller and fem!Reader | AU 🔥🖤 In collaboration with my Slutty Smutty Sister @sydneyinacoma
Summary: You’ve waited for what feels like forever to hear Joel say he’ll give you what you want, and what better day to be grateful you’re both now on the same page than Thanksgiving. Joel shows you just how thankful he is for you by giving you loads of his cum. Yep, that’s the fic. **mind the warnings on this one
Drabbles:
The Kind of Love We Make
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One Shots:
Caller Number Nine | Read on AO3 Pairing Javier Pena and fem!Reader | Narcos AU 🔥🖤
Summary: You're a radio host of a popular late-night segment on relationships, advice and more. After a particularly bad night of calls, your final call of the night takes you by surprise.
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Heat Wave | Read on AO3 Pairing Pairing Javier Pena and fem!Reader | Narcos 🔥🖤
Summary: In the sweltering haze of a Colombian heatwave, everyone's on edge, including you, your nerves fried crispier than plantains in a hot skillet. Even Javi is not immune - his nights spent tossing and turning, the relentless heat driving him mad. Imagine his surprise - and yours - when he knocks on your door late one night, a little buzzed and sweaty, craving a distraction. What's a generous soul to do but let him in and share some cool, sweet cholado? As the night unfurls, the heat outside might be unbearable, but inside, things are just starting to warm up. ++++
Reporting For Duty | Read on AO3 Pairing Javier Pena and fem!Reader | Narcos AU 🔥
Summary: You're a flight attendant. You need to be fucked, and that much becomes all the more obvious when a hot, flirty Air Marshal named Javier shows up to fly your leg with you. That's it. That's the fic.
Drabbles:
Edging
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Gas, Grass or ASS 🔥 Pairing mechanic!Frankie Morales and Fem!Reader | AU
Read on AO3
Summary: You muster the courage to leave your small town and shitty past behind. Fate, it seems, has other plans. Your beater of a truck breaks down in the middle of the highway, and you get it towed to Catfish Auto & Repair. After finding out you don't have the money to pay, you and Frankie find another way to work it out.
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Last Updated April 21, 2024 18+ banners are from @cafekitsune
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413 notes · View notes
bearsbeetsbeskar · 1 year
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Restoring the Roots (Joel Miller x Therapist! reader)
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Chapter 1: Pre-Contemplation
Chapter 2 here | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | main masterlist |
Pairing: Joel Miller x therapist! reader, post outbreak Rating: none, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap) Summary: Life after moving to Jackson looks drastically different for Joel, survival mode is over and now he and Ellie can finally put down new roots. Ellie adapts easily but Joel finds himself struggling to settle into this new life, in more ways than some. At Ellie and Tommy’s insistence, Joel begrudgingly finds himself in therapy to try and work through his struggles but what he encounters is more than just painful memories and deeply rooted trauma. A/N: I cannot say enough thank you's to the number of lovely humans who encouraged this idea and supported me as I embark on my very first fic! And what better Pedro character to be the guinea pig for this idea? Lots of this story draws on my personal knowledge as a social worker, as I am working towards becoming a certified equine assisted therapist. Consequently, there are lots of horsey terms, therapy terms, and vivid descriptions of trauma at certain points. Feel free like, comment, or reblog if you enjoy it :)
Taglist (for now): @beskarandblasters, @pr0ximamidnight, @theewokingdead, @atinylittlepain, @prolix-yuy, @swiftispunk, @harriedandharassed, @amywritesthings
If anyone wants to be on the taglist please let me know! If you don't want to be on it then also let me know lol.
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You sat up taller in your chair, arching your back and rolling your shoulders in an effort to stretch out your spine, exhaling softly as you heard the cacophony of crunches and protests from your muscles. You had been hunched over your notepad for over an hour, eyebrows scrunched together and your mind running on autopilot, as you caught up on client notes that you had fallen behind on for the last couple days. The downside of having a small therapy practice, hell any therapy practice, was that there was a never ending litany of documentation to fill out. Seeing as you were the only therapist in the tiny commune of Jackson, there was never a shortage of clients and consequently, never a shortage of session notes that you had to write. 
“Hun.”
You hear your name spoken in a warm tone from behind you. You barely look up from the page as you try to rewrite the word ‘diagnosis’ after what feels like the fifth time. The word has basically lost all its meaning at this point. 
“Honey, c’mon, the sun is about ready to set and you can wrap that up tomorrow.” The cover page to the notepad closes on top of your hand and you look up to see your assistant, Tracey, giving you a knowing look and then glancing towards the front of the office. You follow her gaze to the front windows and take in the deep ember orange hue washing over the business faces and windows on the opposite side of the street, signaling the end of another day. Sighing softly, you lean back in your chair and cross your arms over your chest with a frown. You know she’s right and yet you still have the same dispute every day. 
“Trace, you and I both know that if I don’t get them done today, they will just be added to tomorrow’s to do list, besides this is the last one I swear,” you say to her with a smirk, as if she has not heard that excuse before. 
You were never the kind of person to half-ass your responsibilities at your job, including client documentation, even if there was no longer any governing body or association to uphold professional social work standards. You did your job with integrity, even the mundane administrative tasks that involved more writing than actual talking with clients. Tracey knew this of course, it was something she admired about you, how suited you were for this line of work. It was clear that you cared deeply for the clients that you supported. But it doesn’t mean it was not a fight when the end of the workday rolled around and she had to tear you away from your desk and practically shove you out of the office door. 
She rolled her eyes at you and her lips curled into a small smile as she headed towards the door with her coat and bag in tow. “Promise me you will at least be out of here before the night patrol starts?” She points her finger at you as she stops just ahead of the door. You nod and wave her off as you turn your focus back to the notepad, smoothing your palm over the words etched into the cover ‘Restorative Reins.’ 
You had only been in Jackson for roughly over a month, though it felt like much longer. Much like everyone else who had survived the outbreak and came to find refuge in the small settlement after the world went to shit, you were grateful to accept any basic decencies of normal life that were afforded to you. Warm meals, warm showers, hell running water in general was a miracle in and of itself at that point. So when you actually arrived in Jackson, you were dumbfounded to see how much normalcy surrounded you. Children running and playing in the streets, storefronts of various thriving businesses, sheep being rounded up in a nearby corral - hold on, a fucking MOVIE THEATER? 
While it took some time to grow out of the perpetual fight or flight mode that you were entrenched in from life on the road, you did eventually fall into a good pace in Jackson. Especially after getting involved in the community and taking up the job as the local therapist, you had never been busier, and you loved it. 
The world felt unflinchingly obsolete post outbreak, but being able to support others with their mental health never failed to bring you joy and an unshakeable sense of purpose. You wanted to help others as they navigated their pain and broke down the mental blocks that entrapped them in their trauma. You wanted to help them realize the innate strength that they possessed. Sadly, you never got the chance to practice long term, as you finished up grad school just before the outbreak happened. But that didn’t seem to matter now as you had an endless stream of community members that you saw on a weekly basis at your practice, all with their own pain and struggles, seeking support.
It was crazy to think about the short period of time that had passed since you started at the job, how much you had done for the residents, how much more that you wanted to do. You were pulled from your memories when the office phone rang, internally groaning as you looked at your watch.
4:58 p.m. Of course. 
Steeling yourself you picked up the phone, praying that it was a quick call.
“Restorative Reins Practice, how can I help you?” you answered.
“Oh! hi ma'am,” a warm, mellow Southern drawl greets you on the other end. “Are you the local therapist that has been helpin’ folks out around here with their mental health?”
"That's me,” you reply warmly, “what can I do for you?”
The man hesitates briefly, “Well, I was uh wanting to know a bit more about the business I guess, how the therapy process works, fees and stuff for someone who was interested in getting help. Not me though, it’s not for me, it’s for my brother, Joel. My name is Tommy by the way,” he mentions quickly. 
“No problem Tommy, I can explain the basics to you including the different types of therapy I offer and how the process works,” you reassure him. You explain to him the different services, how the equine therapy worked, walk in hours, session lengths and so on. 
“I should probably mention that my brother ain’t keen on getting help and reaching out to others when he needs it, he’s too damn proud to acknowledge it, so he really doesn’t think he has any issues and thinks everything is fine… but he’s having a real tough time settlin’ down here. He’s so haunted by his past and he’s been acting differently lately, more temperamental, well, more than usual,” Tommy adds. You smile to yourself and nod, as you’ve had many clients before who were stuck in similar struggles and closed off to therapy initially.
“I can definitely understand that,” you sympathize with him. “It sounds like your brother has been through a lot and you just want him to get some support, which is great. Therapy isn’t for everybody but I have worked with many individuals like him who were going through similar situations, and they found great success.”
“That’s great to hear. That’s all I want for him is to get some help,” Tommy states.
“Now with that being said,” you continue, “therapy is voluntary, I cannot force someone to attend, but if your brother would agree to a consultation with me, I could chat with him more about where he is at, the kind of support he could benefit from and go from there. No pressure to commit to anything,” you propose to him.
“Hmm, I think he could be persuaded to try that, now that you mention it like that,” Tommy chuckles, sounding pleasantly surprised. 
“Awesome! You can tell him to stop by the office any time and we can discuss it more. We’re open from 9-5,” you tell him, silently relieved that it was an indeed quick call. He thanks you and hangs up. 
Something else akin to curiosity creeps into your mind as you recount what Tommy briefly told you about his brother. Maybe more so intrigue. You wonder how resistant he is to therapy, what happened in his past to hurt him so deeply, but you catch yourself before your thoughts run away from you further, either way you look forward to helping another person in need. 
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“Tommy, I swear to god if you bring up this damn therapy shit again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you next time we’re out on patrol,” Joel growled through clenched teeth, as he walked away from his brother into the kitchen of the house. 
“Boy, it ain’t like I never heard that before,” Tommy quipped sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he followed Joel into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway as he leaned against the frame, hands shoved into his pockets. He observed his brother's rigid stance, the tightness in his shoulders, as Joel stood over the sink, looking out the window. 
This felt like the umpteenth time that Tommy had broached the subject of Joel getting help and talking to a ‘shrink,’ as he dismissively described it, for the issues that he was struggling with. Joel was fine. He didn’t have any fucking issues. He was doing just fine and didn’t need some professional to scrutinize him, reduce him to his vices, and open old wounds from his past life. He was encouraged to go to grief counseling after Sarah died but by some grace of God, or whatever godforsaken omnipotent entity existed at that point, the outbreak occurred. Forget mental health, physical health and survival became the only focus.
Tommy exhaled softly. “Listen, I'm only suggestin’ it because I care about you. Ellie cares about you. You both have been through hell and back in the last year, I mean shit, we all have. But it seems like everything y’all went through is still affecting you, holding you back from letting your guard down and settling in here,” he states plainly, sadness lacing his tone. 
“That’s bullshit Tommy and you know it,” Joel snaps, turning to face his younger brother and leaning back against the counter, arms crossed in defense. His gaze narrows.  “I go out on patrol don’t I? Pick up extra shifts wherever it’s needed, help out with the contracting jobs, go out with Ellie in town.” Joel stood up taller, puffing out his chest, challenging his younger brother. Tommy shook his head, running his hand over his face with an exasperated expression. Heaven forbid Joel did anything for himself that did not involve contributing or providing for someone, period. He just couldn’t shake that from his identity, and it broke Tommy’s heart as he watched his brother’s stubborn pride, ridden with guilt and trauma, swallow him whole. 
“Man when are you gonna fuckin’ do something for yourself Joel?!” Tommy asserted, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “Forget the damn commune, forget the community, forget Ellie for a sec and think about the last time YOU did something for yourself, the last time YOU reached out for help goddamnit.” He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the threshold of the kitchen as he strode towards Joel.
“You’re not on the run anymore brother. You don’t have to just survive. You can have a life here. You can sleep without keepin’ one eye open and relax without lookin’ over your shoulder. Don’t you want that? Don’t you think you deserve that?! Don’t you think you deserve this?!” Tommy said as he gestured around the cozy kitchen and fixed his older brother with a pleading stare. 
Joel’s eyes widened as he tried to step back, the edge of the counter biting into his lower back as he took in Tommy’s weary face, the pain in his soft brown eyes, mirroring his own. His younger brother rarely raised his voice anymore. The outbreak took its toll on his hot headed temperament that never seemed to simmer down, even after he was discharged from the army. Joel knew that Tommy cared about him, hell he knew how deeply his brother loved him, after all they had respectively been through in the last twenty years, it had to be serious for him to raise his voice. 
Joel opened his mouth, ready to bite back but his brother raised his hands in the air in surrender, “Look, this is the last time I will bring this up, I swear. But yesterday I called up the therapist in town who’s been helpin’ folks out, and asked her about the therapy process and she seems real nice, and supportive. She said you could come in for a consultation and talk to her and see if you’re interested,” Tommy said quietly.
Joel’s gaze narrows as he scrunches his eyebrows together in incredulity, “You-”
“I had nothing to lose Joel. Absolutely nothing. And neither do you,” Tommy cuts him off, raising his chin in defiance. “At least go talk to the therapist, if you don’t like her or you’re not feelin’ it, then I’ll drop it and let it go. Okay? The office is on the main street, just beside the clothing store, adjacent to the stables and they’re open everyday from 9-5.” 
“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy,” Joel leaned back as he looked up at the ceiling, wishing it would collapse in on him. Gotta love that brotherly love.  
“Look I should be getting back now, Maria will be waiting for me. Here’s the number and address for the business. I’ll see you around okay?” Tommy patted through his pockets and retrieved a small piece of paper with writing scribbled on it, placing it on the counter beside Joel. He gave him a last placating look before he walked out of the kitchen, the front door closing behind him with a soft click. 
Joel pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply before turning back around to look out the kitchen window. He hung his head in defeat, rounding his back as he rested his elbows on the counter and glared into his matte reflection in the sink. He didn’t need any help. He was doing fine. He’s still upright and breathing, with blood coursing through his veins isn’t he? Albeit, he's not jumping out of bed like a sprightly thirty year old anymore. His knees pop and crackle when he gets up from crouching over machinery for too long, his joints protest the next day when he pushes himself too far, moving slower than usual on job sites. 
Hell, even his memory is starting to get cloudy around the edges. If it weren’t for Ellie some days, he’s sure he would leave the house without pants on, what with her always reminding him where things are in the house, special events that are coming up in the community that he forgets about. He had been a bit more snappy than usual, as Ellie so lovingly pointed out one day, but that’s nothing compared to his normal demeanour. 
“You’re becoming a grumpy motherfucker y'know that? Jeez, who shit in your cornflakes this morning?” She grumbled at him with a mouth full of cereal, after he snapped at her reminder that it was parent day at the local school. Parent day, P.A. day, Joel hadn’t dealt with any of this shit in over twenty years since Sarah was in school. Even then he managed to swiftly neglect many of the parental events, seeing as Sarah was the perfect student, with nothing but glowing reviews from her teachers. The fact that Ellie was going to school amidst a fucking apocalypse was enough for Joel to be content. 
But still, he’s doing fine, right? Just fine. 
“Maybe talking to someone that’s not related to you would help you, y’know? Being able to talk about shit that you can’t talk to me, or Tommy, or anyone else about you know?” Ellie proposed to him later that night.
As luck would have it, she was already home when Joel and Tommy spoke in the kitchen and she had heard pretty much the entire conversation. And like Tommy, she only wanted Joel to get support because she cared about him. 
“Think of all the shit that we went through in the past year, forget the infected, and the raiders, and FEDRA, and almost dying,” she casually listed off on one hand as if she was reciting a grocery list.
“There's so much shit that we’re both carrying with us, demons from our past, and it’s gotta come out one way or another. Look, therapists aren’t there to judge you, or analyze you,” she continued, “they’re kind of like a sounding board for you to bounce your thoughts off of, and they help you process shit you’re going through. You never know unless you try it,” she said matter of factly. 
“Like Tommy said, you got nothing to lose man. Plus the whiskey and pills will only help you numb reality for so long, you’re gonna go insane eventually,” she said, fixing him with a knowing look as she leaned back into the couch beside him.
Joel just grunted in response and frowned. Damn this kid for being too insightful for her own good.
Ellie might be young but she most certainly wasn’t naive. And as much as Joel would have liked to assume that her easy transition into life in Jackson was on account of her youthfulness, it really wasn’t. It was just the fact that she had never known a normal life, as heartbreaking as that was. She never had the chance to experience such normalcy before everything turned on its head. But she developed friendships with a few of the other teens in the community, namely one girl Dina, who she hung out with after school, went to the movies and other community events with.
She didn’t have to actively try to fit into Jackson, she just did. Joel would never acknowledge the pangs of jealousy he felt gnawing at his insides when he saw her getting on so well, but it didn’t mean they chipped away at his morale any less. 
Ellie smirked at his lack of response, knowing he was mulling it over in his mind. With the relationship they had developed over the past year, she was grateful to be able to talk to Joel and actually get through to him.
“Damn maybe I should be a fuckin’ therapist, that was good advice wasn’t it?” she grinned at him, elbowing him in his side.
Joel snorted and shook his head. “Christ, I must be losing my mind for real this time if you’ve got me considering it.”
“Now c’mon,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, “you owe me at least a few games of Boggle for that pep talk,” she said triumphantly, holding up the weathered board game that was on the coffee table.
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ghouljams · 7 months
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can you please take us back to the beginning? from where it all started?
what did ghost do that made price decide ‘yep, imma ship you out with the horses’ and how did price mention goose before ghost met her.
I have been dying to write some Price and Ghost fic. I wanna do some fae au stuff for them too, but for now we focus on the cowboys. So here it is. Ghost tells Price he'd follow him into hell, and Price asks if he'd follow him to safety too.
"You're not renewing your contract," Ghost has never been keen on beating around the bush. Price is used to that, used to the sharp look in his lieutenant's eye that asks 'what are you keeping off the record and should I do the same?' There have been enough times that they've had to scramble in the dark without the cushion of military contracts, everything less than official in order to achieve the impossible, that he should have expected the look.
"I'm retiring," Price tells him, tugs open the corner drawer of his desk to fish for a cigar. The scrape of wood echoes through his office. Simon fidgets, a short flick of his nails against the pads of his fingers that is quickly stopped by Ghost's clenching fists.
"Retiring," Ghost repeats, feels the word out like he's never heard it before, "didn't know men like us retired." Price hums, clicking his lighter with a growing frustration, fucking military grade bullshit. Ghost flicks his lighter on, and holds it out for his captain. Price takes a moment with his cigar, letting the flame burn just a little long before Ghost flips the lid shut.
"When's the last time you slept?" He asks instead of rising to the obvious, if self deprecating, bait.
"Last night." The answer comes just a second too quick. Practiced. It's a standard question from the psych eval Price knows good and god damn well Ghost's been lying on for years. The kind of scars he's got...
"Really?" Price isn't asking, he lowers his cigar and exhales heavily, feels some of the tension melt off his shoulders, "I didn't." Ghost doesn't blink.
"Don't see how, they just keep makin' the barrack beds more comfortable." He jokes, the deadpan tone a distraction from his underlying agreement. Price would bet Ghost hasn't had a decent night's sleep in years. It won't be any better with him gone.
"Your contract is up about this time isn't it?" Price slides a folder to the side, flips up the edge of Ghost's papers. Same date stamped at the top as his own. It's been like that as long as he can remember. There's never been any question of what was going to happen on that date, except this time around. "What're your plans for that?"
"Renew." Ghost says without an ounce of hesitation.
"Without me?"
Ghost freezes. Price can almost see the gears turning in his head. A new captain, one he can't trust, one who doesn't know who he is or how he works. A new captain that might bring in new people, who might decide he's too much work and have him transferred out of counter terrorism. Who might not let his psych slip pass, who might discharge him for any number of things Price has let go over the years.
Ghost is a good soldier because he trusts him. Someone new? After what happened chasing down Hassan and Makarov, it's anyone's bet how he'll play. Those betrayals still hangs fresh over all of their heads.
"You like animals lieutenant?"
"Animals, sir?" Ghost's head tips forward ever so slightly, the smallest breech in his rigid posture betraying his confusion.
"My wife's family owns a ranch stateside. Would save me the trouble of lookin' for an extra hand if you wanted to change careers." Price leans back in his chair, "Good place to spend your retirement if you like animals."
"When'd you get married?" It's not the most elegant topic change, but it's also not a "no."
"Soon as I saw how shit the barracks were," It's the truth, but it sounds close enough to a joke that anyone else might think it was, "Got a kid too, Goose, you'd like 'er." Ghost grunts, breezing past that one, though Price knows he's carefully filing the information away. Mind like a bear trap that one. There's nothing Price has ever known Ghost to forget.
The two men regard each other across Price's desk. There's a level of trust between them that's carried them to this point, past every roadblock. It's not something that can be built up over night, nor is it one the affords requests lightly. Price has asked a lot of Ghost over the years, both of them understanding that the only way out was through. Now they stand at an impasse. One of them leaving, the other hoping they'll stay.
Ghost doesn't know what he'll be if Price leaves. He doesn't know what he is when he isn't this.
"Simon," Price appeals, leaning forward, "Let me do this for you. Let me get you out before this job kills you. The ranch is nice, it's quiet, you'll have your own place, work. You can sleep there."
Ghost is silent for a long moment, his eyes dark, clouded, as they stare Price down. It's anyone's guess what he's thinking. The conversations they've had- Price knows as well --no better-- than anyone that Ghost lives his life waiting for this work to kill him. He can't bury him again. Can't mourn Simon a second time when he knows he could have saved him. Price couldn't be there last time, but now? Today? He can try.
"I'm not babysitting," Ghost says finally. Price smiles, feels the tight anxiety in his chest loosen a little.
"Who? Goose?" He chuckles, shakes his head, "Doubt you'll get the chance to meet 'er, but I'll make sure she knows not to bother you."
340 notes · View notes
writingseaslugs · 10 months
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Pomefiore: When They're Sick
Did I have too much fun writing Rook, as per usual? The answer is yes. I think I finally get why I like him so much; we're the same dramatic hoe who will talk and hype our friends up. Also obsessive tendencies for the win. He stalks Neige like the fanboy he is, and I stalk several fictional men like the fanboy I am. We're not so different…oh look like I'm rambling again. Hahaha please enjoy the next part of the series!
Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please click the “Au Information” below!
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Pomefiore: When They’re Sick
Vil has always been meticulous when it comes to self-care, and holds everyone in his dorm to the same standards. This means getting sick in the dorm wasn’t a very common experience, since everyone took care of their health and took proper vitamins to ensure they don’t get ill. Sadly this doesn’t stop the beautiful thing known as the common cold from spreading around and getting a few sick. Normally it was a quarantine situation, keep the sick student at the nurse’s office until they can get better and keep them away from the other students. Sadly during the flu season, every bed in the nurse's office is oftentimes taken, and no Pomefiore members wants to risk getting sick just to take care of someone.
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Vil Schoenheit
Vil sees being sick as a major inconvenience on his end, and automatically goes into self care mode. If he even so much as sniffles he’s calling up a doctor. His health is very important, so he’s meticulous in taking care of things before it gets bad. Sadly some things can’t be prevented, and when flu season rolls around and it’s a new strain that his body isn’t used to, there’s only so much he can do. He’ll still be calling up a personal doctor though to help take care of him.
The moment you offer to help he’s turning you away. He already has a team on it in order to take care of him, so he doesn’t need a classmate to do anything for him. So why aren’t you leaving? You know you can get sick too, right? Not to mention he looks hideous like this! His poor skin is paler than normal and looks sickly, his nose and eyes are red and he has the sniffles. Honestly the only reason he doesn’t want you there is because he can’t stand you seeing him like this. Insist on staying though, because doctors are one thing but they aren’t there 24/7 to take care of him, and something domestic about taking care of someone while sick melts his heart.
Due to the doctor’s working with him, he has lots of prescribed medication and vitamins to take while recovering. The only thing he needs is for someone to bring them to him while he lays in bed and tries to feel better. This is where you come in, obviously, playing the role of nurse and making sure he takes all his medication. He’s anal about it being exactly on time, so have alarms set so he doesn’t have to even think about it.
Just like with medication, he has a team of nutritionists making him meal plans. Again, his health is closely connected with his career, so he needs to get better as soon as possible. If you make the meals you better follow the instructions perfectly, or get someone else to do it. He won’t admit it, but he’s happy if you make him the food yourself. He’ll comment that it tastes nice and that he appreciates the efforts you’re going through to take care of him.
Thanks to you, the doctors, and nutritionist, his flu lasts a solid three days. He’s going to be taking it easy for the next week or so just to make sure his body is fully recovered. He’ll of course be thanking you at that time, and letting you know how much your efforts mean to him. He even promises that if you ever fall ill, he’ll make sure to get you a team to help take care and nurse you back to health. Wait…you want him to assist? Oh honey, he can’t afford to get sick again.
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Rook Hunt
Rook has always been a wild child, eating things off the ground when he was a small boy and hiding in the foliage while hunting. His immune system is legendary at this point, so it’s no surprise that he rarely ever catches anything more than a slight head cold. When the flu season washes over Pomefiore and he gets sick though, it’s game over. He’s getting the man flu to the max, high fever and delirious to the max. He probably should be taken to the hospital because you’d think he was dying with how crummy he feels.
He’s not even going to remember you offering help, but he is going to remember you taking care of him. That high fever makes most of him being sick on the first day very fuzzy. He does recall Vil checking in on him and then getting a doctor, and then later you came over and saw his state. By the second day when he’s no longer suffering from his fever, he’ll be a lot happier to have you around. He’ll be calling you all sorts of pet names and adoring every moment he gets to see you, calling you the perfect spouse even if you’re not romantically involved in the slightest.
He will happily take anything you give him, even the most foul tasting liquids. He’ll say it tastes heavenly just because you prepared it for him, and be thanking you as he takes it. He won’t even make a reaction to visibly show disgust, just a smile as he puts it down. He’ll then be asking if you’d like to sit and stay for a while so he won’t be so lonesome. He does worry about you getting sick, but as long as you’re not sitting on the bed and are a safe distance away, he’ll love to have your company. He’ll be babbling away about stories from his childhood to help pass the time until he falls asleep.
Oh? You made him something? Perhaps getting sick every so often is worth it if it means he gets to have a come cooked meal delivered directly to his bed. Of course he’s going to adore whatever you make him and not think twice about what’s actually in it. He’ll be singing your praises to the moon and back, even if it’s not super tasty. Really it’s the thought and effort that you put into it that has him singing praise; if it happens to taste good that’s just a bonus.
Once he’s better you’ll be bombarded with compliments and small presents. Sitting in class is always interesting when random arrows impale themselves into your desk with a small poem about how heroic you were to save a damsel in distress like him while he was sick and dying. He’s dramatic, of course, but he’s truthful. He really appreciated all the time and effort you spent to help nurse him back to help, and he swears one day he’ll return the favor ten fold.
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Epel Felmier
Epel is the definition of “I’m fine” when he’s clearly not. As someone who grew up on a farm, he never sought medical treatment unless his grandma was dragging him in. Things were always too busy and he didn’t have time to take away from his chores. So unless he’s dying or someone he knows is dragging his ass to the nurse, he’ll just go about his day. Sadly for Epel, he lives in Pomefiore with Vil who notices every nuance. The moment he gets sick Vil is dragging him to the nurse and getting him on some medication and forcing him to rest in bed.
He doesn’t need help at all…or so he says. Really, it’s just a slight cough and a runny nose, nothing to worry about. He could still go to class like this actually, but sadly Vil won’t let him. If you insist enough he’ll allow it though, one thing he does remember growing up was how kind his grandma always was when taking care of him while sick. It’s going to warm his heart and he’ll be thanking you for taking care of him. He won’t be too fussy either, letting you do whatever you think he might need.
Okay now this is where he draws the line; he cannot stand medicine. Even at home he rarely ever took it since it was never serious, so having you telling him he has to is blasphemous. He’s going to try and negotiate so he doesn’t have to take it, but he knows it’s a losing battle. If he doesn’t take it from you, then Vil is going to be forcing it onto him one way or another. Better to just let you hand it to him so it’s more pleasant, right?
Now he can get behind this, nothing beats a good home cooked meal when you’re feeling sick. Hand him some chicken noodle soup and he’s a happy boy. Suddenly being sick and having you take care of him is all worth it. He won’t comment that it isn’t up to par with granny though, everyone knows that Grandma’s make the best soups when you’re sick. Something about it heals the mind and soul, but yours does come pretty close. If it’s from a can, just don’t say anything and ruin the illusion. Although honestly if Vil saw you bringing a canned soup to Epel while he’s sick, he'd grab it and force you to the kitchen for a cooking lesson.
Vil is making him go to your dorm with a handwritten thank you note; and his grandma probably sent him some apple juice to give to you as well. He’s a bit embarrassed when he comes in with all the things, but loosens up when you tell him all is good. He’ll insist that he’ll help you if you ever get sick though, and will probably stay over to enjoy a bottle of apple juice and maybe leave behind a perfectly carved apple. It’s the little things that make a difference. 
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copperbadge · 5 months
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Hey Sam, I remember reading a post or response from you about how to give to charities anonymously, but now that I’m searching, I’m finding a few different responses but still have questions. Any chance you could do a round up post? Wondering about the following:
1. How to give cash
2. How to give small amounts anonymously (e.g., if you can’t set up a DAF)
3. How to opt out of being sent branded junk if you can’t give anonymously, because it will end up in the garbage (seriously, no more pens, stickers or magnets please)
4. In giving anonymously, how important is the tax receipt? I only take the standard deduction on my taxes… is there a reason to bother with tracking the receipts?
Appreciate your help!
Ah yeah, it's rough knowing how to do some of these things. I've written about some of them, probably most of them, but disparately over several posts, so let me see if I can answer succinctly and all in one place.
How to give cash: You are pretty much confined to two options, giving cash to a staffer in person or mailing cash in an envelope. If you have access to the office of the nonprofit you may be able to swing by and drop the cash off, but it's not super convenient and often not possible. If you're at an event you can hand it in an envelope to a staffer, and that's really the only way my organization gets cash donations, but that requires you to be at the event. And technically I can't recommend mailing cash since the risk of theft is a real one. Giving cash is fine legally, but nonprofits often aren't thrilled with it because it can put their staff at risk and also there's, well, there's no way to track that donation to a person. But yeah, throw them dollars between two thick sheets of paper and mail that in with a note saying "This is for the XYZ organization" so they know they can accept it.
2. Giving small amounts anonymously: It depends on how you're defining 'small'; I have a DAF (for the readers: a Donor Advised Fund -- I talk a little about them here but I've never gone indepth) which has no minimum deposit or minimum monthly contribution, but they do have a minimum donation amount of $20. To me that's not especially large, but I know to many people it can be. Pretty much the only way to give an amount smaller than $20 anonymously is to give online through the nonprofit's website using a cash giftcard (like a Visa gift debit card), and just not give an address. If you custom-order checks you can sometimes order checks without a home address, or with the bank's address, and pay with one of those, but I've never tried that.
If you do use a DAF (and I can recommend Charityvest, they've been mine for several years now) you can always set up to pay small amounts into it and just have them send all that money in a lump sum once or twice a year. I pay in $75/mo and from that they pay out three $20 donations a month, and at the end of the year the extra $180 that has just sat there becomes a nice extra donation. Always bearing in mind of course that once you pay into a DAF that money is gone, you can't claw it back even if you haven't "donated" it yet -- just putting money in a DAF is considered a donation. Readers, if you're curious about DAFs I recommend googling, lots of banks have "what is a DAF" pages, but if you're not finding what you want to know do feel free to come ask me.
3. Opting out of swag when not giving anonymously: I'm tempted to just say "Ya can't" because it's hard, especially with larger orgs. Even if you opt out, often you'll still get mailings that are considered "stewardship" (maintaining a relationship) rather than "solicitation" (asking for giving) and swag counts as stewardship. You can always start with sending the org a letter saying "Please put me on a Do Not Contact list, I will continue to give but don't want to get your swag". If that doesn't work, start returning mailings -- if you get something from the org don't even open it, just write "return to sender -- no longer resident" and drop it in the mail. This is not guaranteed effective; some places will either just change the name to 'resident' or retry every so often just in case. You can call the org and ask to speak to "records" or "data", and then just be super up front: "I want to keep supporting you but I really don't want the swag, how do I get that turned off?" They can help, but if you give to another similar org, a lot of times orgs will do "list exchanges" where they swap mailing lists, and if the org does that and you're on the other org's list, you get put right back on the "ok to mail" list for the first org.
I will say, swag is very, very cheap and gets results, so you can also look at this as "well, it was wasted on me, but the five cents this pen cost will get them $1 from someone, so in accepting it, I am still helping them to gain donations." This depends on your tolerance for waste, of course, which I'll talk more about in a minute.
(I personally like getting magnets, because I put stickers over top of whatever's printed on the magnet, cut it out to the shape of the sticker, and behold! I have a cool magnet!)
4. Tax receipting: I'm not a CPA or a tax lawyer and I fucked this up the last time I talked about it, so take this with a grain of salt, but there is an "above and beyond" deduction -- after the standard deduction I believe you can deduct an additional up-to-$300 for charitable giving, and if you were to be audited you'd need receipts to prove that. (As I said, if you're planning on this, fact-check first, I am not a strong source for this information.) (Edited to add: comments informed me this is no longer the case, so I'm glad I added in the disclaimer :D) If you give via a DAF, no problem; the DAF tracks where and when and how much you gave, so I could use my DAF's records as "receipts". You can also, if you lost or didn't get a receipt, contact the org and ask them for your giving record for the year. Here's the problem -- if you are giving in a way that allows you to avoid giving your address, there may be no way to get those receipts, since you can't prove their record with your name on it is you. So if you want receipts but want to give semi-anonymously definitely make sure they have your email address. If you're giving $300 a year, you probably want to take that deduction; if you're giving $20 a year, probably it isn't worth it. But yeah, to get a receipt you generally have to give them enough information for them to identify you, but you don't need giving receipts if all you take is the standard deduction.
All in all, the options are -- give cash and get no receipt, give via DAF or using a giftcard and get receipts to your email, give with your address attached and just hope they honor your request to be removed from swag mailing, or give however you want, put up with the swag, and bear in mind that them sending you the pen or magnet or keychain wasn't much of a problem or cost for them and will get them money from someone.
Honestly, option four isn't the least irritating, but it's probably the least labor-intensive for you. But it really is a question of what you want from your relationship to the nonprofits you support, and how passionately you feel about the "waste" status of swag they send. Only you can determine where your tolerance point is between "having to put in so much effort not to get this stuff" and "having to throw this stuff in a landfill". It's a regrettable part of being a donor and building a relationship with a nonprofit, but we in the nonprofit field do appreciate your giving and your tolerance :) While there are some outlier bad-actors in the space, trust me, for most nonprofits, nothing we do is gratuitous. Almost all of us are on such a thin wire that if something costs us money and doesn't get us more money, it gets binned very quickly.
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ao3cassandraic · 9 months
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When angels overplay
Angels, playing a human role new to them, routinely overplay, in delight at their own cleverness and the sheer fun of roleplay. (Demons mostly don't. Crowley only piles role upon role on Bildad the Shuhite because Aziraphale prods him into helping con the angel posse. Until then, Bildad's basically just some guy -- if a guy who asks some rather foreboding leading questions -- to Job and Sitis. In s1, Hastur la Vista looks awful, but plays his role at Megiddo tolerably well; it's Warlock's child-outing-the-naked-emperor bit rather than any solecisms on his part that mess up his scene.) Angels just can't seem to figure out that sometimes less is more.
Muriel totally overdoes the Human Police Officer schtick -- Mrs. Sandwich clocks them just from a moment's glance at them, and so does Aziraphale -- because Muriel doesn't really know what they're doing so they think the thing to do is MORE OF IT. They kinda even know they don't know, but they have to get the job done so they just soldier (heh) right on. When Aziraphale pretends to buy their disguise, they are visibly thrilled.
Aziraphale totally overdoes the investigative-reporter schtick with the publican in the Resurrectionist. He settles down once he's getting some actual useful information, but the way he tosses around journalist jargon at the start is just as overegged as Muriel's Inspector Constable bit, and it comes from the same place of delight in roleplay.
Aziraphale's West End stage-magician career is also a masterpiece of Overegging It (when he isn't a basket of nerves, anyway). He only gets away with it because stage figures are allowed to be mega-flamboyant.
Here's the fun bit. Y'all ready for the fun bit? Here it is.
This applies to the Metatron too. He overplays his role as Kindly Oh-So-Human Appreciator of Aziraphale.
Oh, he does pretty well, the astute manipulative formerly-human-himself sod. He gets by Nina, no problem. The latte for Aziraphale (miracled or not) is a great gambit. He gets by Crowley, even -- Crowley's huge, huge, HUGE mistake is letting Aziraphale talk to the Metatron alone. (Crowley's contempt for Muriel's overplay, which he extends to angels in general, does him a very bad turn here.)
But then the Metatron says something that ground my brain-gears to a halt on my very first s2 watch. "You’re a leader, you’re honest, you don’t just tell people what they want to hear."
I'm sorry, are we talking about the same angel? The angel Aziraphale? The angel who flatly refuses to lead his troops in s1? The lying liar angel who lies lyingly even to the archangels and God Herself? The angel who when at odds with Heaven's archangels invariably finds a way to tell them what they want to hear, even if he has to convince them they want to hear it?
That angel?
Look, sure, it's meant as flattery, but the thing is, I don't think that is even the kind of angel Aziraphale wants to see himself as. He's not Michael or Uriel or Shax or Furfur, jockeying for empty titles and authority. He knows he's dishonest, and he's actually pretty honest with himself about it -- he confesses his lies to Crowley more than once over the millennia! He goes along to get along because it mostly works for him (and, of course, because he is always, always afraid).
But the Metatron clearly expects Aziraphale to buy this overegged line of utter boardroom-bafflegab bullshit. (Oxshit. Whatever. It's shit.) And the old boy's pretty damn pleased with himself at how well he thinks he's doing; he just oozes self-satisfaction.
I continue to hope Aziraphale doesn't buy it. He doesn't buy it. He does his standard go-along-to-get-along thing until he can get back to the bookshop and try to (codedly, codedly, anxiously, anxiously, the Metatron is still near) ask for Crowley's help.
I'm willing to be wrong about this; it's possible this is a cue to the audience -- rather than to Aziraphale -- that the Metatron isn't to be trusted. I don't think I am wrong, though. I think the Metatron went too far and Aziraphale (who is intelligent) caught it. Or possibly he'll catch it in (deus et Amazon volent) s3 when he's had a moment to consider.
P.S. I love that for all the swirling uncertainty about the details, the fandom has quickly -- and I believe accurately -- settled on the Metatron as the hate-sink string-pulling villain. We also seem to be pretty much agreed that there's one or several cons happening around the s2 ending, though again we're all over the place on the details. It's funny! I love y'all!
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shanastoryteller · 1 year
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Happy Valentine's Day, Shana! 💕🎉
Something FMA, please! Either a continuation of Colonel Elric or Sacrifice is Free
a continuation of 1 2 3
Hughes had intended to get several meetings out of the way in the morning before the day got too hectic, but he hears about the commotion Elric's team caused just trying to get into the building and rapidly rearranges his plans.
"Is everything alright with Roy?" Gracia asks as soon as he gets off the phone.
He blinks. "Yes. At least I think so. Why?"
"That's your managing Roy face," she says, smoothing his jacket across his shoulders.
He grimaces. "It's also my managing Edward face. You'll be seeing it a lot more."
She laughs, but he's serious.
~
As always, he hears them before he sees them.
"How the fuck is this considered well packaged?" Russel shouts, grumpy as usual. "I told you we should have shipped our own equipment."
"You know we had to give them the chance to snoop," Al says at a more reasonable volume. "They would have thrown a fit if we'd insisted on doing it ourselves."
"Well, Russel is throwing a fit now, so I'm not sure what the difference is," Kayal points out.
Maes snorts.
"Russel, put down the protractor," Fletcher begs.
"If I'm not complaining about them putting their grubby hands all over my automail, I don't want to hear anything from the rest of you," Winry snaps.
There's a beat of silence.
"You did complain about them putting their grubby hands all over your automail," Ed says.
"Shut up, Ed." Maes nudges the door open to peek inside. Winry is gesturing a wrench threateningly, which is par for the course. She's signed off on a variety of firearms, but somehow it's the hardware that seems to cause the most injuries. "You and Al took all your notes. You're not suffering like the rest of us."
"Hey, Al and I spent weeks making those decoys! That was a lot of suffering," Ed protests, his jacket tossed aside and his sleeves pushed to his elbows as he works on assembling Kayal's furnace.
Winry's eyes narrow. Sciezka pipes up from where she's buried under aforementioned notes, "Everything would be back in order faster if you all stopped bickering and focused. Also Hughes is here."
Every pair of eyes is suddenly focused on him. It's not the first time he's found himself under their scrutiny, but it's unnerving every time.
"I was wondering when you'd swing by," Ed grins. "I thought we could at least make it to lunch without setting off the rumor mill."
"Ed," he sighs, fond in spite himself. "How long until you're office is back up to standards?"
He looks at everyone else. Al looks up from the chemical compounds he's sorting and says , "Everything will be up in running by the end of the day, and organized by," he glances to Sciezka.
"The end of the week," she says, "assuming I get some more filing cabinets."
"Know where we can get some spare filing cabinets?" Ed grins.
Maes sighs. "Can I borrow your commanding officer for a bit?"
"Take him," Kayal shrugs as Russel says, "You'd be doing us a favor," and Winry adds, "Please."
Ed rolls his eyes. Al smirks and says, "We've got it. I'll find you if something goes wrong."
"If something goes wrong I'll just follow the smoke and screaming," Ed says. Maes wishes he was joking. "All right, all right, I'm gone. Don't have too much fun without me."
Fletcher waves goodbye. No one else does.
"I get no respect," Ed complains as they walk down the hall.
"You wouldn't know what to do with it if you did," Maes points out. People treating Ed appropriately for his rank gives him hives.
"True," he admits easily. "Now tell me all the good gossip. We almost never bothered to come to Central."
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