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#and this isn't just a few weeks in
booasaur · 2 years
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NCIS: Hawai’i - 1x10
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ohbluesky · 11 months
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HII here’s a lil something for @thominho-week-2023!!! 
- Day 2: Road Trip
- Day 3: “I really thought I lost you”
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tennessoui · 3 months
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For the prompt list, nanny/single parent obikin would be amazing!!
(from this prompt list)
(the first time I answered this prompt two years ago, the nanny anakin au was born)
so to do something different, here's some gffa widowed anakin, nanny (sort of) obi-wan!
(2.5k)
It is hard to find time to grieve. There are too many things to do. Too many appointments to make, too many decisions Anakin isn’t sure he’s qualified for. Some decisions are easier than others. For example, the funeral will be on Naboo. There will be two services: a public one to honor Padmé’s public service, and a private one to honor who she was as a person. The casket will be closed, because his wife died when her cruiser exploded. There isn’t much left to bury anyway.
But some decisions are harder. Which flowers should go on her casket. What songs would she want sung and who should sing them? Would she prefer her grave closer to her ancestral home or the home she created in her adulthood?
If she told anyone the answers to these questions, it wasn’t Anakin. But then, the people who knew her best, who loved her most, died with her. Sabé, Rabé, Saché, Yané, all of her handmaidens—an assassination such broad strokes that it was impossible for it to fail.
So Anakin chooses Yali lilies, because Leia’s eyes linger on them the longest. He chooses a small Nabooian folk band to play after her service because their music is the first thing to make Luke lift his head from his coloring books in days. He formally requests that her body be buried among her ancestors, and the Nabierres agree immediately.
And he keeps telling himself that he will grieve, but there is so much to do. 
And then—then there’s after the funeral. Then there’s the rest of his life, sprawling out before him in a long, hazy road. 
There are more decisions to be made.
There are people who have opinions on them now, people who sat back and let Anakin muddle through flower arrangements and kriffing seating charts, who now step in to peer over his shoulder, monitor his every breath.
Should he really move the children back to Coruscant? Does he truly plan to continue to work as a mechanic in the Mid-Levels? Should he not think of the children, their needs? How can he support them on the thin amount of credits he makes? Would it not be better for the children to live on Naboo in the care of their grandparents and their extended family?
It would be what Padmé would have wanted.
Anakin cannot care about what Padmé would have wanted, because she isn’t here. Not to argue with him, not to make her wants known. She is dead. She doesn’t get to haunt him in the waking world too.
“What do you want?” he asks plainly, sitting down across the table from his two children. The twins blink back at him. Leia has finished her cereal. Luke has barely touched his.
“Bacon,” Luke says.
Anakin hadn’t meant for breakfast, but he figures it’s as good of a start as any. “Alright,” he agrees.
He stands once more and goes to the kitchen. It’s not exactly his domain. It was never Padmé’s either. The way Padmé grew up, food was made once you requested it—by droid, by cooking staff. Not by the hand of a Nabierre.
The way Anakin grew up, food was cobbled together carefully, sparingly no matter how much you requested it. And no matter how you cooked it, it always tasted a little like dust, which took the joy out of experimentation.
But the serving staff have been dismissed for the past two weeks to give the family time and space to grieve in private. 
(Padmé’s parents have been given a schedule for visiting hours for that exact reason.)
Anakin locates the pan; then, he locates the package of bacon strips.
When he glances up, both twins are watching him over the edge of their barstools, tiny faces showing both skepticism and incredulity.
“I want to know what you want to do,” Anakin says, raising his voice as he places the pot over the heating plate, the meat in a moment later. “Do you want to stay here with your grandmother and grandfather? Do you want to go back to Coruscant?”
The twins are quiet. Anakin twists his neck to look at them again, and they’re looking at each other, silently communicating the way only twins can.
“Where will you be?” Leia finally asks, looking at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes, bottom lip already jutting out.
Anakin blinks. “Wherever you are,” he answers.
“You won’t leave too?” Luke asks rather tremulously.
Anakin takes the pan off the heated plate and turns it off with a decisive flick of his wrist. “Of course not,” he says. “Come here.” He crouches down and barely has enough time to open his arms before the twins are there, pressing in as close as they can get to him. He holds them back just as tightly in return.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises into Leia’s hair. “Not without you two.”
—-----------------
It becomes apparent fairly quickly that this is, by necessity, a lie.
The twins don’t want to stay on Naboo, which Anakin is secretly incredibly grateful for. He doesn’t want to either, but he knows he’d just be called selfish should he express the opinion.
But the twins don’t want to go back to Coruscant either. This makes sense as well. It would be incredibly jarring for them to go back to living in the quarters they shared with their mother, her Upper Coruscanti apartments in the nicest district of the planet, without her there.
Anakin wishes it were as simple as sticking a pin on a planet and deciding to uproot the entirety of his family to live there. 
But it’s not.
Perhaps if he were still young, nineteen, newly free and in love with the taste of that freedom, it would be.
But he’s a widower now. He has his children to think about, their futures. Any planet he chooses must have what they need as well. 
And they are four year olds who have just lost their mother. Their needs are numerous.
What makes the decision for him in the end is that his boss knows a man from Stewjon, who is willing to hire him. Who is willing to pay a premium for his expertise with mechanics.
Anakin doesn’t know the first thing about Stewjon, other than that it’s an ocean planet in the Inner Core and his dead wife always said the Senators from Stewjon were so frigid and tight-lipped because they spent the first few days of each visit trying not to be seasick on the Senate floor.
Anakin isn’t sure why this is the very first thing he tells the man—his potential boss—he meets behind the counter in the mech-shop on Stewjon.
He’s left the children with their grandparents for the week—long enough to fly from Naboo to Stewjon, meet with his potential employer, interview, apply his work practically, and fly back out.
He’d explained to both twins why they had to stay on Naboo. He’d explained many times. That hadn’t changed the betrayed look Leia had worn as she saw him off. It hadn’t wiped the tears from Luke’s eyes.
“Ah, well, I can’t say I’ve heard that one before,” the mechanic says. He sounds amused, and Anakin is incredibly shocked to hear a Coruscanti accent. Everyone he’s spoken to since arriving planetside has had such a heavy brogue that he’d honestly struggled to understand their directions to the shop—Kenobi & Sons.
Anakin lets himself look again at the man behind the counter. He’s rather clean for a mechanic, he decides. His beard is red, a common factor around these parts apparently, but his beard is short and neat, trimmed to accentuate the strong lines of his jaw. His eyes are a stormy blue, the kind of blue that matches the Stewjoni ocean.
“Between you and me though,” the man smirks and leans onto the counter with his elbow. His tunic is dark gray, white starchy fabric peeking out beneath the v-necked collar. “I’ve never been a fan of Stewjoni politicians anyway.”
“Oh?” Anakin asks, sidling a step closer to the counter. The man has the beginnings of gray at his temples, and his eyes are lined with wrinkles. They don’t make him look old though, Anakin decides. They make him look…well-lived.
“I’ve not a head for politics much at all,” his future employer shakes his head slightly with a small smile. His eyes flick up and down Anakin’s face, lingering on his lips and then lingering longer on the scar over his brow. Anakin feels rather flushed under the inspection, and he shifts his weight forward until he’s leaning up against the counter too.
There’s something about this man that’s rather…magnetic. It pulls him in. It makes him want to linger.
Good characteristic for a shopkeeper to have, though Anakin privately decides that the man before him has a face that’s wasted on mechanics, buried under some ship’s underbelly in a backroom.
“Me neither,” he admits, a moment too late to sound anything but highly distracted. It makes the man smile again though, a flash of straight white teeth.
“Is there anything you do have a head for then?” he asks. His tone is light, airy, rather teasing.
This is the strangest interview Anakin has ever had.
“Um,” he says. “Well. There’s mechanics.”
“Oh?” The man’s eyebrow lifts at an elegant angle. He props his chin on the palm of his hand and looks up at Anakin through his eyelashes. “Then why come here to us then?”
“Um,” Anakin says, and not because the man looks rather unfairly flattering like this, amber eyelashes in sharp relief against the blue of his eyes.
They’re interrupted by the sounds of clattering in the backroom, stomping and cursing. The man before him straightens with a slight sigh and picks up the closest flimsipad. “And what brings you in here today, sir?” he asks rather loudly, pitching his voice back to the other room of the shop pointedly. “Problem with your speeder? Serving droid? Cruiser? If it’s your astromech droid, I regret to inform you that I’ll have to refuse you service on account of the fact that I don’t particularly care for them.”
Anakin thinks he splutters, but whatever noise he makes is definitely drowned out by the rather irritated shout of Obi-Wan! that comes from the back.
A moment later, a man storms through the door, looking annoyed. "We will service an astomech if that's what's broken, Obi-Wan."
Now this is a man that Anakin can believe is a mechanic. His nails are blackened with oil, and his bare, burly arms carry smudges of the stuff. He’s much broader than the man—Obi-Wan—that Anakin had been talking to. He’s bald with a reddened scalp and a rather large red beard that’s the antithesis of the other man’s in every way. His clothes are dirty, loose, and the color of ash. He looks older too—whereas Obi-Wan could easily be in his thirties, this man must be pushing fifty.
He snaps at Obi-Wan in a language that Anakin doesn’t understand. Obi-Wan shrugs and hands over the flimsi pad without argument.
“Um, actually,” Anakin says, feeling incredibly wrong-footed. “Which one of you is Kenobi?”
“I am,” both of them say. Obi-Wan’s smirking slightly. The other man’s voice is louder, carrying that Stewjoni accent so obviously lacking in Obi-Wan’s speech.
The older man closes his eyes as if he’s praying for patience. “We both are,” he says. “Though if your ship’s malfunctioned, sir, I’m the Kenobi you want to see. This one’s good for naught but magic tricks.”
“I have been told I’m rather good at other things,” Obi-Wan turns his smirk full-force at Anakin, dropping his eyes to Anakin’s lips once more.
“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” he says very quickly in a very normal tone of voice that is most definitely not a squeak. “I’m here to interview for a position. As another mechanic.”
“Oh,” the older Kenobi says.
“Oh,” the younger Kenobi says in a much different tone.
The older Kenobi pinches at his nose for a moment before turning around the counter and offering his hand. “Ben,” he says. “Ben Kenobi.”
Anakin takes his hand and shakes it, eyes traveling back to Obi-Wan. Is he supposed to shake his hand too?
“I’m the Son in the sign,” Ben says gruffly as if that answers his question.
“I’m the reason it’s plural,” Obi-Wan adds, busying himself with the contents of the counter. From what Anakin can tell, the man is just messing up the carefully organized piles of receipts. 
He decides that he would rather not get the job than point this out to Ben.
Ben huffs out something in Stewjoni that sounds downright insulting, but that doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from smiling sunnily up at Anakin. “My brother enjoys bitching and moaning that I came back home when I was seventeen, but he’s awfully quick to foist his children off on me when he’s called to shift at the rig offshore and Marci’s off-planet too.”
Anakin blinks. He feels like that’s the safest answer.
“Only thing good that blasted Jedi Order ever taught you was how to handle younglings,” Ben says, and then spits on the ground as if the words themselves have left a bad taste in his mouth.
Anakin blinks and wonders if he should say something to remind the brothers that he’s here. For an interview. “And my magic tricks,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes slightly before catching Anakin’s eye and winking. With a wave of his hand, a flimsi-sheet flies over the counter and into Anakin’s chest. He catches it unthinkingly. “Would you like to sign in, sir?” “Get out of here,” Ben barks, snatching the flimsi from Anakin’s hand and pushing it back to the counter. “Like I said, the only one’s impressed with that is the younglings.”
“I don’t know, your man looks impressed,” Obi-Wan says slyly, even as he pushes himself away from the counter and around the edge of it.
Anakin isn’t sure what he looks like. He doesn’t think impressed is the word he’d use though.
When Obi-Wan brushes past him, the static electricity in the air jumps between their shoulders. Anakin feels as if he’s been shocked.
Obi-Wan must feel it too because he stops only a few inches away and looks at Anakin. For the first time, his expression is open. Curious. Considering.
“Get!” His brother insists, and Obi-Wan obeys, throwing one last look over his shoulder at Anakin before he slips out the door.
The shop feels somehow much bigger now that the other man has left. Ben sighs and rubs a hand down his face. He looks older now. More worn. “So that was my brother,” he tells Anakin wearily. “Who you would most likely see frequently if you were to take this job. I would understand completely if you would like to start by talking compensation.”
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introspectivememories · 8 months
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high school timber is all about repression!!!
it's about bernard desperately trying to prove to himself and his parents that he's straight!! because his parents already don't like him and he cannot be gay. not now not ever!!!! so he puts up this front of a ladies man and he picks a girl he cant ever get together with and maybe he kisses like 3/4 of the female population at grieves and gains a reputation but hey! at least he's not gay! but he's so caught up in making sure his eyes don't to stick too long on tyrone's face or michael-from-biology's eyes or kabir-from-study-hall's thick thighs that even his attraction to women is under a filter. and it's not that he doesn't like women, he does! very much so!! but it's that he's soo caught on not being perceived as gay that he cant show his attraction to women the way he'd like to. it's all under this filter of what he thinks Real Men who are attracted to women act like so it's this brash, loud, crass, thing and it's not him at all. it's "ooh tim, ms. winters is soooo hot!" or "hey kayla, why don't you and i get to know each other a little better, if you know what i mean?" or "god her tits are soo big. she's so fucking hot!" and all this other shit when he really means, "tim, why the fuck does your stepmom have such a pretty smile?" or "kayla, you said you liked yugioh? i'd love to hear more about it!" or "god fuck, that girl has such pretty hands. i think if i held them i'd combust." but none of that is how a Real Man likes women so he shuts that shit down before it even has a chance to come up. it's fine, he's fine. so what if no one ever holds him like he holds those girls? it's fine. he'll take the manwhore label and the fuckboy title and he'll give out as many kisses as those girls want and if sometimes when he's kissing a girl he wonders what it'd be like to sit on kabir's thighs or if tyrone's lips really are as soft as they look, that's just the devil speaking. and if sometimes when he walks back into the cafeteria at lunch, lipstick still smudged on the corner of his mouth, after making out with a girl and his eyes skirt over tim's lithe body and he wonders what it'd be like to draw out the same sounds he's heard girls make when he kisses them, or what it'd be like to brush his thumb over tim's hands, or what it'd be like to hold tim or press a kiss to his shoulder, or a million and one other things, well that'll just have to be another one his secrets.
and it's about tim who's in a relationship with stephanie and his dad knows he's robin and he doesn't have time to figure out why his mouth goes dry when the light hits bernard's hair just right. he's too busy trying to figure out a way back to his nightlife. and so what if bernard has pretty pink lips that look very plush? so what if he's looked at some of his teammates and thought they were handsome? he's not blind!!! he has a girlfriend! and he loves her! and so what if his hand brushes bear's during fourth-period bio? so what if the tingles last all day? it was just some static! and it doesn't matter that when bear laughs his eyes get squinty and they water over -- cause bear always laughs so hard he almost cries -- and it sounds like bells. and it doesn't even matter, that sometimes when bernard walks back into the lunchroom, 10 minutes before the bell rings, lipstick smeared across the corner of his mouth, lips tilted up in the most charming smirk he's ever seen, that his chest fills with jealousy. it doesn't matter that his hands clench into fists so hard that his nails leave crescents marks all day. it doesn't matter that he wants to be bear's flavor of the day, week, month, whatever. he wants to leave the lipstick marks!! he wants to know if bear really is as good as he hears the girls speak about!!! he wants to know "that thing bernard does with his tongue!" is! he wants to drape himself over bear the same way he sees those girls do! he wants to know what bear's hands feel like gripping his waist. he wants, wants, wants!!! but it doesn't matter. it doesn't. he's got a girlfriend, her name is stephanie, she's gorgeous and, most importantly he loves her. he's too busy for bernard anyway.
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cerise-on-top · 11 days
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Hello love! Hope you are well!
So I’ve had this cute idea for a while with AleRudy poly! Where Alejandro and their s/o spoil Rudy for a day, like make him dinner,, whatever you think lolz and then end it by both Ale and s/o spooning him?? I think it would be adorable!!
Hey there! I don't think I made this as fluffy as I could have, and for that I am truly sorry! But I tried!
Spoiling Rodolfo
I feel like he’d be surprised at first. Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t doubt the love you and Alejandro have for him one bit, but he never would have thought you’d go out of your way to spoil him this much. First you bring him breakfast in bed, essentially waking him with a kiss to each side. It was all there, French toast, eggs, orange juice. He didn’t have to lift a finger. Naturally, as he got out of bed, he’d try to make it up to you by cleaning up after himself, only for you and Alejandro to stop him from doing so, forcing him back onto the bed once again. Rodolfo would grow suspicious. Did he miss an important date? Did the both of you miss an important date? It wasn’t like it was his birthday either, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember something that you did where you had to make it up to him either. For the time being, he’d simply accept his fate. Eventually, he would get up to check up on you. And then there was the barrage of gifts. They were lovely, naturally, but what did he do to deserve them? Again, he would grow even more suspicious. From the beautiful flowers to the small stickers you stuck on him, he wouldn’t know what to do. However, he wouldn’t say something immediately. Maybe he can think of why you’re being especially nice to him himself. Were you about to get into a lot of trouble? Were you just trying to get on his good side?
Of course, Alejandro made the suggestion of going out together, spending the time outside to do whatever it is he wanted. And then came the idea of having a picnic, since it was nice and warm outside. As you went to pay for all the items, with Rodolfo already taking out his wallet, you almost tackled him to get him to put it away. Alejandro paid, even though he shouldn’t have. You were three people, and with the amount of snacks you bought it didn’t come cheap either. From a massage to a heartfelt poem from you, it all started to seem like a little too much. Again, Rodolfo doesn’t doubt the love you feel for him, but it seems a bit off. However, you wouldn’t give him a satisfying answer either when asked about it. Were you going to break up with him after all this time? Making your last day together as beautiful as possible so he had something to cry over? He hoped not, but it didn’t seem impossible with how nice you were being towards him. A kiss to the cheek, you even gave him a plushie of a small cat, claiming its silliness reminded you of him. Why on Earth would you do all of this? Why go to these lengths?
Even around dinnertime, when you wouldn’t let him help out, he almost felt a bit sad. Sure, it was nice to not have to lift a single finger for a day, but why? He loved helping out, you both knew that. He was very much an active man at home, doing what he could to keep everything clean and in order. He didn’t mind cooking for you either, pouring his heart and soul into every meal for you. Rodolfo adored doing something for you, so he wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of it all. The meal was delicious, but he felt almost sad as he was unable to help you out at least even a little bit. You watched his favorite movie with him, you took pictures of him with his silly cat plushie, hell, you would have likely spoon fed him as well on that day. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. What have the both of you been up to? He would ask you again regarding it all when you were spooning him, trapping him on either side. It would take the most embarrassing nicknames that you only use on him to calm his nerves. Something along the lines of “Hush, Rudy-Poody, can’t we show our love and appreciation for you for once? You always make us feel good, so it was time to return the favor.” and “Mi esposo, you need to have more trust in us. Sometimes we just wanna see you smile as well. Cheer up, we just wanted to spoil just once in this life.”
He’d sort of cringe at the nickname you gave him, but it was the reassurance he needed since you only ever used it when you were being especially sappy. You didn’t get in trouble again, you were simply a bunch of lovesick fools. He’d give you a kiss on the nose and a smile. However, he would also try to turn around as Alejandro was spooning him, only for the colonel to not budge in the slightest, saying that Rodolfo shouldn’t be tossing and turning like this. No kissy for Alejandro it seemed. Rodolfo was this close to just wrestling him down for that kissy. Although he can’t really get used to the feeling of being spoiled, he will accept it for just that day. He will pay the both of you back in his style, though. You will also be spoiled. He couldn’t wait to team up with one of you to spoil the third one. All three of you will have had a day like this at some point.
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wikiangela · 1 month
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seven sentence sunday
tagged by @diazsdimples 💖
I'm still jumping between wips so here's another snippet of the cheating fic, this time a bit of Buck and Taylor arguing - I can't explain how much fun I'm having with this fic, this is so not my usual thing but it's just so fun haha
prev snippet
___
“Can we do this tomorrow?” he asks, bringing his hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose. He’s getting a headache.
“No, we’re doing this now. Tell me what’s up.” she says, pulling at the covers when he tries to cover himself and turn away again. 
“Jesus, Taylor, let it go. I’m fine. And it’s none of your business.” he snaps, pulling at the duvet a little harder.
“Fine.” he hears rustling, then the bed shifting. She got up. The light on her nightstand is still on. “I thought since we’re together, and live together, we’re pretty serious, and now you’re weird around me, and you don’t even touch me, so I thought it was my business, but clearly I was wrong.” she talks as she walks up to his- their closet and starts getting dressed. Now Buck looks at her, leaning up on his elbows.
“What are you doing?” he asks with a sigh, watching as she takes off her nightshirt and starts putting on jeans. “Where are you going?”
“None of your business.” she replies, her tone feeling like a slap in the face. Buck deserves the real thing, actually.
___
no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @sunshinediaz @giddyupbuck @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @hoodie-buck @nmcggg @jesuisici33 @exhuastedpigeon @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @honestlydarkprincess @theotherbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @tizniz @daffi-990
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Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!
#cats#holiday#OUGHH....... barely could even get these edited and posted... my mysterious sickness flare up has been sooo bad the past few#days.. I didn't even go to the usual obligatory family christmas I was supposed to attend (!!! health issue/medical mention in tags below)#My stomach issues basically put me in a constant state of uncontrollable shivering/body shaking + nausea + sometimes rapid heart#rate. and when it happens at night that makes it like.. nearly impossible to sleep when you're violently shaking + you can feel your heart#so strong + you keep having to run to the bathroom every 5 minute to cough and gag#and throw up and so on and so forth. etc. So I went like 40 hours without any sleep almost for christmas eve and all of christmas day#last night I finally got maybe 2 hours of sleep in between the nausea and shaking and stuff. and then today I was able to get a few#hours of sleep in the afternoon. Today I tried taking an anxiety mediciation a doctor gave me in case it was anxiety related (it's apparent#ly used to relax people and works in the moment. rather than like Anxiety Mediciation that you have to take for weeks to see any effect#because I think this isn't actually acting on your brain chemistry it's judt like..a mild sedative or something.) but all that did was make#me dizzy and sweaty lol. I;m glad I slept a little but I'm just still frustrated that I don't feel normal. I started having these#'episodes' (with the stomach issues + shaking + heartrate + nausea etc.) like at the end of october. And usually it will happen for like a#few hours at a time. or i'll lose sleep one day and then be fine the next. but this has been like nearly 3 days of feeling weird. so is#getting kind of annoying... It's funny too because I was so so productive like.. literally the few days before. I was feeling much better#and I was working on my game and blah blah. But then.. random issue flare up out of nowhere of course.. yaayy.... happy holidays to meee lo#I did at least see two random ducks outside of my window in the yard area for christmas. and havent seen them since. So it's like.. hrmm..#pacing around my room nauseous and shakings and etc. but at least... hello.. two little ducks placed there just for me :3c#Now I get anxiety every night which I'm sure doesn't help/could exacerbate whatever underlying genuinely physical issues exist. But after#like 2 nights of 'I spend the night sleepless and incredibly uncomfortable just sitting in the dark sick' then bedtime is like.. dread...#I even was trying slapping myself in the face in desperation to see if somehow that could shock my body out of whatever the hell it was#doing lol.. up at 3am holding ice cubes in my hand and hitting myself in the head and crying from exhaustion and thowing up.. literally#ridiculous cartoon character feeling... AAANYWAY!!! At least I have baby boy pictures. and I have lots of doctors appointments so hopefully#whatever the issue is can be sorted out at some point. I don't know much about ibs but hopefully maybe something like that that I could pos#ibly take medication for and not something more seirous or anything. Maybe there's a food I'm secretly intolerant to or whatever.#And I did at least post a sims holday video actually timed for the holidays so that's something. I havent been productive really latrely#though obviously.. I can't even play games or small tasks when in that state since I'm just SO physically uncomfortable. Nausea and heart#stuff are THE hardest physical sensations to ignore.. BUT yeah... hoping I shall sleep at all tonight. hopeing to get like 3 productive#things done.. at some point... at least SOMETHING... lol..... *** *** ***
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loelett · 25 days
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slightly older drawing of me thinking abt his hair length..
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innytoes · 6 months
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I will be shocked if I'm the only one who sends you this, but: found family Thanksgiving, greater polyphantoms polycule
It wasn't like Thanksgiving was the biggest deal, Julie tried to reason with herself, even as she refreshed her phone again, and again, and again. She didn't even like Thanksgiving that much. The Molinas had always been more of a Christmas kind of family. Mostly because Mom liked the sparkly lights and Dad was a fiend for gingerbread.
But her phone still said that all flights to LA were cancelled, and would be until after the holidays, due to the stupidly early snowstorms. She should have just done what most people had done, and skip her last few days of class to catch an earlier flight.
But she really couldn't afford to miss more of her stupid mandatory PE credit dance classes, after she already missed two in a row due to oversleeping after staying up working on her musical composition homework and a bout of the flu. So her dad and her aunt had advised her to not skip, school came first, it would be fine, the news was always being dramatic anyway.
She couldn't even bear to call her dad, knowing that just the sound of his voice would make her burst into tears. Instead she texted him the screenshot, and he sent her back a very long text about how much he loved her and would miss her and he'd send some money so she could get something nice to treat herself. They could video call all day if she wanted to.
She sent him a little thumbs up, before throwing herself at her pillow and having a good cry. Then, she went down the dorm hall to get a hot shower and change into her coziest, most comforting PJs to have a little pity party with the hidden lock box of snacks under her bed. (Her roommate Kayla was an awesome friend but also a dirty snack thief.)
The dorms were echoingly empty. It was almost creepy. The food hall was closed for the holidays, so she quickly heated up some water for instant noodles before hurrying back to her room. She stayed up too late comfort-watching Gilmore Girls and eating an entire roll of Oreos and several mini chocolate chip muffins before falling asleep amidst the crumbs. Excellent pity party.
She woke up to what sounded like three separate people knocking on her door. For a moment, she was confused, before she blearily shoved her glasses onto her face and rolled out of bed. She opened the door angrily, ready to snap at whoever was disturbing her wallowing. "What the hell are you doing knocking so early it's only..." she threw a look at the clock and deflated. "Um, noon."
"Julie!" Oh no. That was Luke, from her song writing class. The guy who she kind of had a crush on, with his cute smile and his pretty eyes and his brilliant lyrics and his- "You were right, Reg, she's totally still here, just like you said."
"Not that I was stalking you or anything!" Oh no, and there was her other crush, red-cheeked and fidgeting. Reggie was in her dance class, one of the few people who showed up yesterday. Which meant that they'd been partnered up a lot. Which had been really nice, except also very, very distracting. "It's just that you were saying you were going to the airport right after class but the news said everything's shut down and we just wanted to check if maybe you were still here but not to like be weird or creepy but-"
"Oh for..." A third boy, in a pink hoodie and backwards baseball cap said. "We wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to our Friendsgiving party."
"Orphan and Stranded People Tofurkey And Epic Sides Meal That Does Not Perpetuate A Fake Racist Narrative Party!" someone called from down the hall, where they were knocking on doors, apparently to see if anyone would open.
"Willie, that's too long..." Pink Hoodie started, before sighing. "Okay. Yeah, that."
"I... I don't have anything to bring," she said, looking at her now sadly empty snack box. "Except for maybe some stray peanut butter cups."
"That's okay," Willie said, moving back towards her room. None of the other doors opened. "We were planning on breaking into the kitchens anyway, there'll be plenty of food there. Besides the Tofurkey, of course."
"Yeah, Alex stole that from work!" Reggie beamed.
"I did not!" Alex, pink hoodie guy, said, his voice high pitched. "I just... used my staff discount."
"You rang it up as a single grape," Luke pointed out.
"The manager is an asshole and ordered way too many anyway," Alex shrugged. "She won't notice."
Honestly, hanging out with both of her crushes and what appeared to be a set of Chaos Gremlins seemed much better than faking internet connectivity issues so she wouldn't cry on a video call home. So she agreed to come if she could change into something more suited for breaking and entering (and impressing her crushes) and then joined in the 'search party'.
In the end, there were seven of them. Willie made picking the lock to the kitchens look easy, and they all had a great time sneaking around and rummaging through the kitchens for food. Flynn took charge, delegating 'the eye candy' to mix and chop and stir when all of the admitted they had no idea how to cook a turkey, much less a Tofurkey. Julie, after a brief rapid fire round of questions, was put in charge of the stove, since 'she could be trusted with fire'.
While they were cooking, the stories came out. Luke wasn't going home for the holidays because his parents had freaked out when they found out he'd switched his major to music. Reggie and Alex didn't have any family to go home to ("none worth our time, anyway"). Willie's uncle was in Paris, but he'd sent a bunch of money so he could eat out 'somewhere they don't serve cranberry sauce from a can'.
"But you're here with us breaking into the kitchen?" Julie asked, pointedly looking at the cans of cranberry sauce on the counter.
"He already spent it all on art supplies," Alex said fondly.
Flynn was stranded, like her. Carrie, who hadn't been very talkative, just gave a curt 'I don't want to talk about it'. Reggie got her to smile, though, by guessing more and more outlandish scenarios, beaming and shouting 'I knew it' when she finally gave in and agreed that yes, her pegasus was in the shop so she couldn't fly home to her fairy kingdom.
By the time her dad called to check in on her, the Tofurkey, rolls, and mac and cheese were in the oven, and they were all laughing. She made the rounds, introducing her new friends, beaming when they all waved back just as dorkily as her dad was.
And if next year she brought them all home with her? The more the merrier.
And if a couple of years after that, they were the ones hosting their friends and family at their own Thanksgiving party in their shared house, trading cranberry flavoured kisses and bites of stuffing while cooking together?
Maybe Julie liked Thanksgiving after all.
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sockeyesoren · 10 months
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Who let the dogs out
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belethlegwen · 4 months
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The Rescue - Chp 53 - Still Dealing With The Sting
Good morning my lovelies and lurkers <3
The newest chapter of The Rescue is now live! Christmas and the Holiday season being what it is, I haven't had a ton of time (though, mostly energy has been the problem) to write, but I should still have something to go up in two weeks for you all :)
I hope you all have a lovely day and wonderful weekend! If I can get my ass up on time I'm thinking I'll catch The Boy and The Heron today as a step in helping me wind down a little. Honestly really excited to see it.
Enjoy the reading! Thank you all, as always, so much for the comments and kudos and shares <3 I apologize I haven't been able to respond to all the comments like I want to. My brain is deep in scrambled-egg territory.
Love you all, take care of yourselves and each other as best as you can!
~ Belle
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teemdark · 2 months
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So I've been thinking about silver and his semi-frequent jumps to to the past. And I wonder.
How much time is there between one jump and the other? Not for the people in the present, but for Silver. Maybe in the past, the cast sees him once every few weeks. As they grow up, the visits get less and less frequent. They've been fixing the future together, and things are getting better back when Silver is from.
But what if for Silver, all these visits happen within a much shorter time span? Maybe every single jump backwards he makes is condensed in a few very hectic weeks as far as his rightful place in the future is concerned. Because he's in his "prime", and the universe needs him as strong as he can be.
So the people he loves grow, and he doesn't. He sees them suddenly get much taller. He sees their behavior changing. Between one jump and the other, all of a sudden there are grey streaks in Sonic's fur. Knuckles doesn't punch as hard as he used to. There's kids. Kids Silver has never seen before. It's like they appeared out of nowhere.
And amid all these changes, he's still just Silver, fifteen year old from the future. And he's watching snapshots of his friends' lives as they go by.
I mean, can you imagine? At some point he jumps back again, and he's ready to fight, ready for whatever the past is about to throw at him, but then he finds out there's no emergency. No worldwide crisis. Except that one of his friends is dying. Because they're old. Because it's time. And that's when Silver gets it-- this isn't a mission, but his first farewell.
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kakunamatatq · 2 years
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First five minutes of episode 9 in a nutshell
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sharkbaitouhaha · 4 months
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2024 goal: be nicer to myself
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fernsplaysthings · 4 months
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Apparently 'small Kestral redesign' just means 'make them hotter'. At least like...until they change their hair cut and colour again.
That's how to manage trauma, right?
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amatres · 9 months
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@commander-lariel's knight commander Lariel Aldonlel, based on the painting 'Ophelia' by Arthur Hughes, as well as the official artwork Dolly made herself for Lariel's Commander as Companion prompt. I couldn't choose between the version with or without the filter, so I'll post both.
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