#and I could keep going on but the meds are kickin in and I think that this is probably more sharing than I’ll be comfortable with in the

[toomuchdickfort]

*over-analyzes the stories of my OCs at bedtime until it makes me want to cry while I wait for the Benadryl to knock me out*

#it doesn’t happen too often but. it’s happened often enough that it’s like. Hm. #and like. it’s just Bc I make myself feel bad at bedtime anyways if the brain is left to it’s thoughts and also sometimes I need to know Ill #get sleep so I take smth to knock me the fuck out. and in this case it’s also Bc allergies are kicking my ass #but anyway. looks pointedly at the characters who’ve come close to self inserts and how their lives only get better after some tragedy if #they get any better at all. #looks pointedly at arson sitting curled up on the floor of their room having their third cry of the week and Derrek laying on the floor #trying to kick the ‘experiencing another universe instead’ thing into gear because existing is so much energy and he doesn’t have the energy #to do anything and he also doesnt have the energy to sleep #points at Eri who killed his brother in an act of self-vengeance and immediately regretted it when he had time to think and when he left a #note he chose to paint himself as villainously as he could without lying because he figured it would be easier on his mother #and synaelia who is slowly like. actually being hit with the fact that she’s dead and is most likely going to stay that way for a very very #very long time and part of her wants to ask a father figure how he handled that but he’s ditched town and she blames herself and instead of #dealing with any of that it’s time for a revenge road trip with a sword that needs therapy #and also points at lawrence who I’ve talked about before but. the line ‘he was more of a tool than the sword ever was and now he had no clue #what he was’ with a side of ‘this man came to two different conclusions about who he fundamentally is and then got all his memories back and #those ideas do not remotely align and he feels lost’ #and I could keep going on but the meds are kickin in and I think that this is probably more sharing than I’ll be comfortable with in the #morning anyways. if I remember about it #don't mind me #i’m just complaining

[free-boundsoul]

Fourth Day of Christmas: Cold

Darlin’ cursed their luck as they blew their nose for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Chasing another lead on Quinn last night had gotten them caught up in a freezing shower, leaving them to stomp back to their apartment, soaked through and teeth chattering. They woke up to their nose stuffed up, their throat feeling like they’d been screaming for hours on end and their bones aching as a fever came and went.

They were a fucking wolf! They weren’t supposed to get colds. Darlin’ groaned as they slunk further into the bundle of blankets they’d wrapped around themselves to try and keep warm. What was really pissing them off was the fact that they were going to meet up with Sam tonight and now they’d had to cancel. They weren’t even going to be searching for leads on the asshat leech! They were just going to get together for dinner! And maybe more cuddles...a wolf could hope-

A knock on the door interrupted their thoughts, before that smooth southern voice was calling out to them from the other side of the door, “It’s just me, Darlin’.”

Did he know I was thinking of him?! The breath they took in to call out to him got stuck in their throat, a coughing fit erupting from their chest that had them doubling over. They heard the door open and close before he was by their side, his hand rubbing circles into their back. When they could finally breathe without hacking up a lung, they looked up at him, “What are you doing here?” They rasped.

“Well, you said you were sick. I figured whatever you caught must be kickin’ your ass if you had to take a rain check. We both know how stubborn you are.” He lifted the bag in his hand, “So I brought what I’d need to make you supper. Or maybe breakfast depending on when you woke up.”

“You really didn’t have to.” They sniffled, ducking their face more into the blanket they tugged closer around themselves. They could only imagine what they looked like, hair a mess, with a red nose that probably looked more at home on Rudolph. They were certain it wasn’t the attractive image they’d wanted to display tonight.

“Nonsense. Let me take care of you, Darlin’. Here,” He pulled a bottle of water from the bag, along with some cold and flu meds. “I got these from a friend of mine. They’re for an Empowered’s metabolism. Take ‘em and I’ll start making the soup.” He put them in their lap before his hand cupped the side of their face, angling their head to look into their eyes. “You just rest for now, ya hear? Just focus on getting better.”

The sarcastic remark they’d been going to quip died in their throat as they looked into his warm, sincere eyes, their mouth closing as they swallowed and gave a resigned nod instead. His thumb tracing along their cheek had a warmth that had nothing to do with the fever spreading in their chest. “That’s my Darlin’. I’ll be just in the kitchen if you need me, okay?”

“Okay... thank you, Sam.”

His lips quirked up in a gentle smile as he stood, “It’s my pleasure. If I make you some tea, will you drink it? I’ll add honey.”

Their nose scrunched up a bit but they still nodded, they weren’t really the tea type but if Sam was the one to make it, they’d at least try to down it. He let out a chuckle as he walked into the kitchen. They freed their hands from their blanket cocoon to down the pills, sipping at the water before they nestled back in, listening to the noises coming from the kitchen. It was strangely...domestic to be bundled up on the couch and listening to Sam bustling in the kitchen, catching bits of a song he hummed under his breath.

“Here you go, Darlin’. Be careful, it’s hot.” They blinked, their eyes focusing in on the mug that was being held out for them. When did I fall asleep? They reached out to wrap their fingers around the warm ceramic. “It should help your throat feel a bit better.”

They blew softly on it before taking a slow sip, pleasantly surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as they remembered, and it did help soothe that scratchy feeling in their throat. “And here I was hoping I’d gotten that husky voice that people go nuts over.”

He snorted a bit at their sarcasm, taking a seat beside them on the couch. “Your normal voice is right pleasing... despite some of the things that come out of that mouth of yours.”

They grinned around the lip of the mug, taking another sip. They loved the fact that their vampire didn’t just take their sass, giving back some of his own. “I can show you what this mouth can-“ Another round of coughing racked their chest, the mug getting plucked from their hands as they covered their mouth. The air wheezed out of them when it finally passed, Sam’s hand rubbing between their shoulder blades as they took the mug back to take a swallow.

“As much as I enjoy hearing you speak, you might want to save your voice, Darlin’. It’ll take a bit for the soup to simmer so why don’t you rest?” He suggested, his hand on their shoulder gently guiding them to tuck into the spot under his arm. They let out a soft grunt of acquiescence before they downed the rest of the tea, knowing it wouldn’t taste better cold. He took the mug to set on the coffee table as they rested their head on his chest, eyelids growing heavy as they focused on the steady beating of his heart.

“Take it easy, now. I’ll be right here when you wake up, Darlin’. And then we can have that dinner we’d planned. “

#redacted asmr #redacted sam #redacted darlin #writing prompt #sick comfort

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: Six

Joe could hear the low murmur of voices on his door step. The deep rumble of a man’s voice and the softer replies from you. And he smiled a little when he heard your knock. 

“I’m coming,” he groused, “Keep your hair on.”

He hauled himself to his feet and made his way to the front door. And he stopped in the hall. His heart melted. Bucky was holding an umbrella in one hand and your jaw, very gently in the other. And both of you were smiling softly. Quietly acknowledging some joke. Bucky looks like he wants to kiss you, starting to lean forward just slightly and you? You look like you wouldn’t mind that at all. So, Joe does what any self respecting curmudgeon would do. He coughs, loudly, making the two of you spring apart, cheeks heating and looking embarrassed. Like you’d been caught doing more than almost stealing a smooch on his front steps. 

But when you turn your head to look at him directly, Joe feels his heart drop. You’d got a brace on one arm, a busted lip, and something that looks like some road rash up towards your hairline. “Jesus Christ,” Joe grumbled, “You look like hell.”

“The other guy looks worse,” you answer, grimacing as your foot slips on the door jamb. And Bucky locks an arm quickly around your waist to steady you.

It takes Joe all of a second to realize Bucky is bearing most of your weight to help you through the door and he hurries, as much as he can to go do… something that might help you get comfortable. 

“Easy, Doll,” Bucky cautions, when you protest softly that you’re okay. “Cracked ribs aren’t anything to play with.”

Bucky nods when Joe pulls a chair out for you and deposits you in it carefully. Joe doesn’t miss that the other man looks worried. You already look exhausted and there’s a fine sheen of sweat on your skin, making you look like a tragic little waif.

“What the hell happened?” Joe demanded, setting a room temperature 7-up on the table for you and sliding a trash can next to your chair. He knows, all too well exactly where your pain tolerance gives way to nausea and he also knows that you’re looking a little green around the gills. 

“Hydra dropped a building on her head,” Bucky explained, opening the soda to give himself something to do.

Joe makes a soft noise and you shoot Bucky a look. “Well, maybe not on her head exactly,” he said, trying to fix it. 

“But close enough,” Joe said weakly, kissing your hair. And for a long, uncomfortable moment he can’t speak. He’s wrestling back the need to lecture you. The need to be angry at you for getting hurt. He wants you to be 8 again. To come in to see him like a tornado of little girl chatter. All long colt-ish legs and suspiciously sticky hands. When you told him once that you didn’t want to be a soldier, he breathed a sigh of relief. But then you became something worse. An agent. 

“I’ll be okay,” you assure him gently. “I’m just out of commission until the ribs heal up. And my brain still works as well as it ever did.”

Joe smiled wryly and kissed the top of your head again, “D’ja call your mother?” 

“I talked to her the next day,” you answer nodding. 

“Wha’daja tell her?” he asked, making sure he had his story straight. He might be old, but he wasn’t senile enough to think that you would have told her the truth. Especially not after what happened with your brother. 

“Car wreck,” you answer, taking a careful sip of the soda. It’s uncomfortable sitting and standing but. At least sitting up your ribs aren’t getting jostled.

“How many more times you think you’re gonna get away with that one?” Joe snorted. 

“At least 3 more,” you answer. “Paying attention to what I tell her means my mom can’t spend time mourning my brother. Or chasing washed out old rock stars.”

It was said with no bitterness. It was a statement of fact. And that, more than the statement its self that made Bucky blink. But when he caught Joe’s eye, a subtle nod from the other man confirmed that you weren’t exaggerating. At least not by much. Bucky also didn’t miss the quick change of subject Joe executed. And before he knew it, Bucky was happily playing cards with the old man as he pestered you. 

When you started to yawn and stare off into space, Joe smiled a little, “Why don’t you go lie down?” he suggested. “The couch is probably still pretty comfy.”

Bucky opened his mouth to offer to take you home, but shut it quickly when Joe went to go find you a blanket before you even had a chance to answer him. And Bucky remembered what it was like to be lonely. And what he would give to have his little sister to dote on. You smile a little, “Help me up?” you ask him. 

And he doesn’t need asking twice. Even if he senses an interrogation coming. You look wrecked, and if getting you a little nap. Or atleast some time to close your eyes, could help, Bucky isn’t going to prevent it. 

He half carries you to the sofa and helps you lie down, cringing in sympathy when you yelp. “Easy, doll,” Bucky soothed, “Just go slow.”

“That hurts worse,” you pant.

“If you’d take pain meds it wouldn’t be this bad,” Bucky scolded, tucking the proffered blanket around you gently. 

“I can’t think when I take them,” you protest. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but he kisses your forehead.

“Bucky?” 

“Hmm?”

“Play nice.”

That makes him grin and he kisses you tenderly, “I will. But you gotta try and rest. The old man’s gonna have a heart attack.”

“I heard that!” Joe yelled from the kitchen, “Quit smoochin’ my best girl and let me finish kickin’ your ass at cards.”

Bucky winked at you and left you to try and rest while he went off to face what might possibly be the most nerve wracking interrogation he’d ever been a part of.

#Bucky Barnes #soft bucky #Bucky barnes x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #injury #pain

[georgiaswarr]

lister bird - part 1 (part 2)

this is me trying - taylor swift

“they told me all of my cages were mental / so i got wasted like all my potential” starting this playlist off with a song that i feel definitely will come to describe lister’s mental state, especially during iana - he’s fallen behind, he’s dependent on partying and drinking, but at least he’s trying to get better

still learning - halsey

this song incorporates a fuckton of lister’s struggles - the pressures of fame, trauma, dealing with past mistakes, of course self-loathing, and much more

timebomb - finish ticket

and another self-deprecating tune !!! this one in particular addresses the connection between drinking/alcoholism and feeling like a fuck-up

the key to life on earth - declan mckenna

i could probably go into great depths to explain how exactly this is a lister song but suffice it to say, lister grew up poor and we mustn’t forget that. “holy smokes / you kids and your jokes / asking where we got our jeans / and where the hell we found our coats” reminds me a lot of meeting lister, him getting into fights and being “held back for after-school meetings”, etc.

new age meds - the wldlfe

“self-deprecation; / a new age medication / and you might need some therapy if / you're gonna live your life suffocating / someone who you're supposed to be” here we have the theme of self-hate again, used in connection with drugs and addiction, too, which is very lister

are you satisfied? - marina

another song highjacked from @kindaorangey, they did a better job than i ever could explaining it here

knock me off my feet - soak

“saturday night on the highest wall / settin' 'em off, all 50 fireworks / kickin' the cannons, we watch them fall / it doesn't exist, the law” lister starts living the high, indulgent life once he gets rich, which is a stark contrast from how he grew up. in the end, though, he still has people he can call his home.

narcissist - no rome

“stayin' late, i just wanna get stoned / telling all your friends that I'm never at home / and my face filling up with blood / but you're still the same living like a bourgeois” highjacked from alice’s 5 playlist, another song about partying and the like but also being painfully aware of your own flaws

big black car - gregory alan isakov

a song about feeling inadequate and worthless compared to another person, which is how lister feels about himself compared to jimmy and rowan

eventually, darling - declan mckenna

abandonment issues, lost hope, impostor syndrome, disillusionment and an almost nihilistic view on a relationship - this song has it all. i personally associate it with bicci and lister reassuring both jimmy and himself that it’s okay if he doesn’t like him back - after all, “everyone leaves eventually, darling”

swimming pools - lxandra

lister grew up poor and we mustn’t forget that part 2 - this is another flashback to his childhood, while simultaneously showing the stark contrast to his current life - i like to interpret the line “still the kids who don't have swimming pools / in their 40-million-square-feet mansions, ooh” in a “yeah, he’s rich, but he still came from almost no money and this has had a profound effect on him” way

mind - declan mckenna

according to declan mckenna himself, this song “makes me think of my friend matty’s party i went to on halloween 2015 after playing a show […] the song lyrically and artiscally kind of reflects the confused mess of my 16 year old self”. this is something lister can probably relate to, feeling emotional turmoil and an incoming existential crisis while partying

joan of arc on the dance floor - aly & aj

“at the stake, we don't fight the flames / are you born in vain if you die a savior?” first of all, joan of FUCKING arc metaphors, second of all the death motif and lister’s “die young” mentality, third of all another dark party song which is how this applies to lister in particular

why do you feel so down - declan mckenna

listerowan song !!! “i think you're one of a kind so i'll never like myself / i think you're older and wiser so i won't let you tell / i think it over and over and hope you're thinking too / i think it over and over and hope i'm over you” because angst

know me - the band camino

and yet another angsty listerowan song, gosh i’m really making myself emo over here

18 forever - maris

a) such a bisexual anthem, b) a song about partying and feeling forever young

house party no. 1 - blossom caldarone

“you want to grow up too fast / it's a race to see who is left last / from lemons to liquor to loving each figure / you're constantly wired up the wrong way / you'll be dead in a year if i wait one more day”. this is how jimmy and rowan see lister, as a party-obsessed “rebel without a cause”

sedated - hozier

a song about addiction and self-destruction. i could probably go through every line of it but imma keep it short and just trust all of you to understand the sheer levels and poetry of sedated by hozier as a lister song

shadows - ruth b

another song from jimmy and rowan’s perspective - they see that lister indulges in a lot of self-destructive behaviour, smoking, drinking, having sex, etc. in the first part of iwbft, they notice all of that in an almost accusatory way, which to me feels like the tone of this song - “kiss yourself another stranger / ‘cause you know you love the danger, don't you? / give yourself to someone new every night, is what you do” for example is them thinking he sleeps with everyone with a pulse

burning incense - skott

i talk about lister and his relationship to religion in greater depth in part 2 with preacher man but i think that theme appears in this song too. generally this song is very much about emotional turmoil, feeling unloved and distant from your friends, and feeling worthless, so very much a lister song

those nights - bastille

theme of loneliness and finding comfort in strangers (which i know lister doesn’t really do anymore but still)

sunday morning - matoma

“i probably shouldn't say this / should keep it all inside / but maybe i'm just wasted / enough to speak my mind” bicci bathroom confession??? anyone????

love like ghosts - lord huron

another beautiful bicci song about unrequited love and feeling so incredibly strongly for someone that it feels beyond the realm of the living - that’s also where the theme of death in iwbft comes in, which lister grapples with in particular

high hopes - kodaline

this song makes me think of the confession scene too - lister realising jimmy maybe doesn’t like him back, losing hope and all that, and deciding he needs to move on

mirrorball - taylor swift

theme of personas - lister has the Lister Bird persona which is there to entertain people, to make himself appear fun, aloof, approachable, almost like a clown, even though that isn’t who he actually is deep inside

much like myself - emma jayne

and another song about appearing happy on the outside despite the fact that you don’t feel much like yourself

#gonna break this up into two parts because holy shit my playlists are LONG #lister bird #osemanverse playlist #playlist #iwbft #em’s fuckery #alcohol tw #addiction tw #death tw #drugs tw #smoking tw

[dusksmote]

Is there any background info you can give on characters in WTSAU?

Like any cool hc you give the characters?

okay i have SO MANY 😩 but i can’t say all the best ones until later cuz they involve SPOILERS

so i’ll try to say all the ones i can with the information given:

Style:

- Kyle’s had feelings for Stan since he realized he was gay, which was in middle school. When Stan came out as bi he told Kyle first, before Wendy, even though they were dating at the time. Kyle’s insecurities prevented from acting on his feelings even after they broke up.

- Wendy has pegged Stan in the past, but Kyle is the first guy Stan’s ever been with. Wendy has come around to support their relationship since the events of ETL chapter 4.

- Stan is always the first one to say ‘I love you’.

- Kyle was the last one in their big friend group to lose his virginity, but he has one of the highest sex drives of the guys. He and Stan switch off being top almost equally, but Kyle prefers to top and Stan prefers to bottom. they fuck daily.

- When they want to have a hard, passionate fuck Kyle tops. when they want to have slow, emotional sex Stan tops. Kyle has slight sadist tendencies (inflicts pain) and Stan has masochist tendencies (receives pain). Stan is especially into breathplay (choking, face sitting, crushing, etc.) and assplay. he’s the best ass eater (so call him a bottom feeder 😂) and Kyle’s superior in the blowjob department.

- Stan has hyperhidrosis, meaning he sweats more than the average person. this is why their rooms/the truck/anywhere they fuck smells so strong. there’s a few hints for this in ETL/WTSAU, he keeps antiperspirant in his locker and in the truck, he gets really sweaty whenever they have sex. Stan also has asthma and acne, which Kyle’s been helping him treat. Kyle loves popping his zits for him.

- Conversely, Kyle is super hygienic and always tries to keep himself clean and dry. when Sharon comes into Stan’s room in chapter 1 and describes the smell, the gym locker scent is Stan, the Old Spice is Kyle, and the ‘inside of a rubber balloon’ is their latex lubricant. 

- Everyone at school considers them the obnoxious, overly romantic couple. they hold hands, cuddle, kiss, and dirty talk in front of everyone. they think they can get away with it without people noticing but they’re chronically conspicuous and not stealthy. the working title for the fanfic was actually ‘Ain’t Slick’ for a while before it changed to What They Say About Us!

- they’re fucking devoted to each other and are exclusively monogamous. Stan is especially protective of Kyle and Kyle is fiercely possessive of Stan. 

- Kyle applied as a math major in his college applications, and will eventually get a PhD for logic and set theory. Stan’s a bio major and wants to go into physical therapy.

- Stan doesn’t smoke weed out of principle (because of his dad) so Kyle also doesn’t smoke in solidarity. 

- Kyle is a type 2 diabetic, and doesn’t need to always take insulin. his weight gain began with the World of Warcraft episode and was maintained instead of lost like in the show. his weight is a cyclical feedback loop of: genetics (mom’s side of the family), too much insulin (when using insulin therapy), and diet. this led to him developing lordosis (excessive weight warps his spine) so he didn’t grow as tall as he would have, and makes his weight appear more exaggerated. short stature, weight, and body image issues led to quitting basketball which in turn contributes more to his weight. this impacts his self-worth which leads to stress eating. his biggest fear is that he’ll never stop gaining weight and will end up as big or bigger than Cartman.

- Stan has gained a few pounds since he started dating Kyle, while Kyle has lost a few.

Cutters/Bunnyman/Kenrietta:

- Kenny is straight, but has voluntarily sucked dick before. he and henrietta have hooked up a few times in the past after running into each other at poetry slam events which Kenny takes Karen to. 

- Butters and Cartman are exclusively gay, and think girls are fucking gross. they’ve only every slept with each other.

- Kenny, Cartman, and Butters are all best friends and do pretty much everything together. even though Butters and Cartman are dating, Kenny never feels like a third wheel because they rarely act romantic in front of anyone (including him). however, when Style start dating and Cutters come out about their relationship, Kenny begins feeling like a fifth wheel.

- Butters lives almost entirely at Cartman’s house. His parents actually don’t mind because they enjoy not having him around. Liane is 100% the cool mom from mean girls who asks them if they want snacks or a condom. Sometimes all three of them crash at Kenny’s house for variety (or when he has to watch Karen because his mom is drinking/out of the house).

- Kenny wants to study psychology in college and become a family therapist or social worker. he’s taking a gap year to save money then going to community college. Cartman and Butters applied to the same schools and plan to stick together long-term.

- Butters and Cartman’s relationship started as experimenting with each other as their sexualities developed, and began after Cartman confided that he had sexual feelings for Kyle. Cartman and Butters have also developed genuine feelings for each other, and overtime their relationship transformed into what it is now. because of how their relationship started, they’re very open about any sexual feelings they have for other people and have a ‘hall pass’ for friends they’re allowed to fuck if given the chance, without it considered cheating.

- Butters is a huge gossip. he will promise to keep secrets and then immediately turn around and tell Cartman--which totally happened after Kyle said he thinks Stan has a crush on him in ETL chapter 2. Butters and Cartman keep nothing from each other, and the only secrets they won’t tell are the ones about each other. 

- Kenny is the easiest of the larger friend group to confide in, and keeps every secret he’s given. he’s known Cartman and Butters have been together since the beginning, about Cartman’s crush on Kyle, and Kyle’s crush on Stan. People naturally come to him for advice and to vent. The least likely person to confide in him is Kyle, who’s more likely to curl in on himself instead of expressing his feelings.

-SO much shit about Cartman and Butters’ relationship I can’t say yet because it comes up in the fic 😩 please ask me about these two again later when i can say more!!!

Creek:

- Tweek is a dom top and Craig’s his catamite. they try to get away with sex anywhere they can and have gotten very stealthy because of it. Tweek also has one of the highest sex drives of their friend group, and Craig will let him do whatever he wants anywhere, anytime. 

- Tweek is constantly high on stimulants (cocaine, meth, adderall, etc.) and Craig experiments with him in certain settings. this is what gives Tweek his boosted self-confidence and flippant attitude. 

- Pete Thelman (hair flip goth) is their coke dealer. Tweek trades him his ADHD meds for it, which Pete resells to posers. If Tweek doesn’t have enough to cover the cost he and Craig make up the rest by giving Pete sexual favors. sometimes they have threesomes for fun too.

- Tweek and Craig both think Kyle is hot and would fuck him given the chance. being open about this with each other makes them feel closer and strengthens their relationship. they have roleplayed as Stan and Kyle in bed before while high out of their minds.

- they're deeply in love and would do anything for each other. Craig could get Tweek to stop taking drugs if he wanted to but right now they enjoy experimenting with them together. in the words of everyone who know them, ‘Tweek and Craig are perfectly fucked up for each other’. 

Kyle’s family:

- Sheila’s biggest regret as a parent is letting Kyle get fat, because she was also overweight as a kid and dealt with the same issues he does now. It’s the same reason she feels obligated to help Kyle’s cousin overcome his weight dilemma (by trying to get him and Stan to hang out).

- Ike is an eboy who loves lil peep. He, Karen, Tricia, and Firkle all make tiktoks together and complain about their gay older brothers/friends.

- random fun fact: If Ike and Karen get married that would mean Kyle and Kenny are brothers-in-law, which would mean the main five all end up as extended family to one another.

Stan’s family:

- Sharon has plans to divorce Randy but is waiting until Stan leaves for college to not uproot him from school and his friends.

- Grandpa Marsh is still kickin’ in the old folks home and Shelly’s off in college.

- Randy’s a narcissist who lives vicariously through Stan’s accomplishments in sports. the easiest way to explain it is: Randy’s not as proud of Stan for being a successful athlete and attractive jock as he is proud of himself for producing one. Stan’s ability to get laid with (he presumes) hot girls makes Randy feel like he has game too. one of the reasons he’s disgusted by Stan’s relationship with Kyle is if Stan’s fucking some big fat guy it doesn’t align with his narrative. 

-

this is just the stuff i could think of off the top of my head, i’ll probably come back and add more to this as i remember it. ask me again in a few chapters!!! i have so much i want to say about bunnyman, cutters, the future for style, and their families that i can’t say yet!

#ask #what they say about us #eat that lunch

[waywardodysseys]

Wounded - Oneshot

Pairing: Ezra x female reader

Warnings: SMUT, blow job, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cussing, blood

Requested?: Yes from this ask - Ezra and you work together, he got hurt, not horribly, maybe he fell down a hill or something. You go looking for him and find him passed out, bruised, and bleeding. You take him back to the tent and fix him up. Then you help take care of him😏🔥

Author’s note: pic by @letaliabane​

~   ~   ~

You and Ezra have been working the green for who knows how long. You feel as though you’ve been stranded on this green alien moon for years, but you know it hasn’t been that long.

You had been informed of the Queen’s Lair prior to descending the station. You and Ezra knew the Queen’s Lair would be a mecca for finding gems. Both of you would be able to take those gems off the green, back to the station, and finally get a ride home to Earth.

You missed the blue, green, and white marble. You missed your family; you missed your friends. Once there you might even miss the man you’ve been marooned with for who knows for how long.

“I’m going over a few yards,” Ezra says through his com mic.

“Fine by me,” you ground out.

“What’s the matter?” He drawls as you feel the cords tug as he begins walking away.

“Ready to get off this moon,” you hiss as you feel him unhook a cord, which tugged on your suit harshly, “careful!”

“I am careful,” Ezra drawls in his rich voice.

You roll your eyes as you hear his footsteps recede from where you are kneeling.

You begin humming a tune as you move onto another spot.

Nothing, your mind screams as quietness surrounds you.

“Ezra?” You ask over the com mic an hour or so later.

You forgot he had walked away from the spot where you were digging.

“Ezra?” You ask again.

You hear a blip over the com mic.

“Ezra!” You shout.

You hear a low moan respond.

“I’m over here,” Ezra moans lowly.

You swallow. His voice sounding like that sends a heatwave through your body. You had never thought of Ezra in a sexual way. Well, okay, maybe you did on occasion because he has been the only face you’ve been looking at for who knows how long.

Your hands have roamed your body thinking of him, thinking of his voice, thinking of how his mustache would feel against your skin.

“Y/N,” Ezra grounds out.

Your mind returns to the here and now. “Where are you?”

“Here,” he drawls.

“I don’t know where here is Ezra,” you sigh.

“I, uh,” Ezra pants.

He sounds out of breath.

“I fell and, uh, I’m bleeding, or I think I am?” Ezra hisses.

“Still doesn’t tell me where you are,” you remark as you begin walking.

“When you, uh, had your back to me,” Ezra sighs, “I walked about maybe 30 feet? In the opposite direction.”

You recall where you were when he told he was going to go ‘over here.’ You walk towards ‘over here.’

“Have you fallen? You lose consciousness?”

“I think so,” Ezra smiles, “you didn’t hear my voice and get concerned?”

You roll your eyes. You were thankful for the quiet, or were you? You didn’t pay any mind nowadays.

You walk over the green of the moon’s ground, making sure you are counting out thirty feet. Your feet move over grass, tree roots, soil. You come across some of Ezra’s tools.

The land dips down and you look down into the crater sized hole.

You smile. There is Ezra lying against one of the hole’s walls.

“Are you smilin’ at me?” Ezra drawls with a laugh.

You shrug as you sit and slide down. “I found you.”

Ezra latches those perfectly same color as the dark soil on this moon eyes on you. “Wish I was dead?”

“No,” you answer without a second thought. “I don’t want to suffer alone.”

Ezra snorts and holds his hand out. “Sure you don’t.”

You grab hold of Ezra’s arm and help him stand. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and begins limping.

“You don’t know if you’re bleeding but yet you limp?”

“Oh,” Ezra sighs, “I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Were you not paying attention?” You now ask a little harshly.

Ezra shrugs, remains silent.

You help him through a low part of the crater wall, getting out of the hole. You feel the weight of him as he uses you as a crutch.

“I’m going to have to take you back to the tent,” you say as you begin walking towards your tent which was about five miles away, “then come back for the supplies.”

“Leave ‘em.” Ezra pants.

“No and have someone steal them. You know there are settlers here!” You hiss.

Ezra looks at you. “Give me some to carry.”

“You’re hurt!”

“I am capable to carrying something,” Ezra grounds out.

“Fine,” you mumble.

You try to keep your hand on the arm he has around your shoulder as you reach down and grab a bag. You hand it to him then pick up the other one.

“This is light Y/N.”

“And you,” you say with annoyance, “are hurt. Come on. Before I decide to leave you to fend for yourself and the settlers chop you up into mincemeat.”

Ezra laughs, “I don’t think they’d do that.”

“Maybe I could convince them,” you say with a smile.

Minutes tick by in silence as you help Ezra towards the tent.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you see the red material in the middle of the green and brown.

You help Ezra inside and towards his bunk.

“Sit down and stay,” you say as you step back and drop the bag you’re carrying down.

“Yes nurse,” Ezra drawls.

You roll your eyes as you zip the tent back up. You unhook your helmet and cords, disposing of both within a matter of seconds.

You walk over to Ezra and help him unhook his helmet and cords.

“You’ll need to get out of the suit,” you remark.

Ezra raises his eyebrows, “if you want me naked you could just say you want me naked.”

“Are you this snarky when you’re hurt? Or is it because you’ve lost lots of blood?” You become concerned at your last thought. “Suit off Ezra. Please.”

“Okay,” Ezra sighs as he pushes the suit down off his body after kicking off his boots. He hisses as he feels the pain course over his ankle.

You push your own suit off your body after slipping off your boots.

Both you and Ezra are in long sleeved black shirts and gray pants.

You notice a rip in his shirt. You walk over and lift the fabric.

Ezra has a small gash on his abdomen.

“It’s big,” Ezra drawls.

You glance at him as you grab the first aid kit.

“Your wound isn’t big Ezra. You’re fine.” You remark as you take out a few things, begin wiping the wound clean.

Ezra hisses.

“Baby,” you mumble.

You finish cleaning the wound and place a bandage on it. “All better.”

“Thank you. Any chance you could check my ankle?” Ezra asks as you get up from the bunk.

You turn and face him. Your eyes gloss over him. You inwardly moan as you look at his exposed skin. You had thought about his skin against your skin, pressing your body against his.

“You going to check my ankle?” Ezra drawls.

Right, you think as you move back over to the bunk.

You roll up the fabric of his pants, moving it slowly over his feet and ankles. His left foot is fine, no swelling. His right foot is swollen and looks to be bruised.

You reach over and grab a pillow from your bunk. You fold it in half and place it under his foot.

“There’s no ice. Elevation’s going to be the only option,” you remark.

“There’s pain meds in the kit,” Ezra implies.

You sigh as you grab the kit again. You pull out the medicine and roll up his sleeve.

“Be gentle,” Ezra remarks.

You stick the med gun on his arm and pull the trigger.

Ezra hisses, “fuck.”

“Feel better?” You ask with a raised brow.

Ezra looks up at you. He reaches up and cups your cheek. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You want to pull away from his touch, but you don’t. “You’re welcome.”

Fuck it, your mind says as you bend down and press your mouth against his.

Ezra reaches up and places his other hand on the back of your head. He wants to devour you like he’s sure you want to devour him.

You kneel on the bunk as your hands reach up and cup his cheeks. The hair on his face prickles your skin. His mustache tickles the skin of your upper lip.

Oh god, yes, you think. Finally.

You pull away breathlessly and look down at him. Your eyes searching his.

“Ezra,” you finally whisper.

“Take care of me and I’ll return the favor,” Ezra whispers as a thumb traces your lips, “I promise.”

You reach down and grab his shirt. You get it off Ezra as he sits up lightly. You let it fall to the floor as you kiss him again. Your hands moving up and down his chest.

Ezra hisses as your hand moves over the bandage.

“Sorry,” you pant as you pull back from his mouth.

“Pain meds are kickin’ in,” he drawls.            

You feel his fingers at the hem of your shirt. You peel yours off and toss it aside.

Ezra moans as he takes in your naked chest. He cups your breasts and flicks his thumbs over your nipples.

You straddle his chest and push him back down against the bunk as your mouth moves across his. You feel Ezra’s hands wrap around you and move up and down your back.

You peel your mouth from his and begin moving it down his long neck. You begin crawling backwards as your mouth moves down his chest and stomach. You move a hand under his pants and stroke his cock.

“Fuck,” Ezra hisses as your hand wraps around his cock.

You pull back from Ezra and push his pants down around his hips. His hardening cock is before your eyes. You inwardly moan at his length and girth. He’s bigger and thicker than the handful of cocks you’ve seen. You grin as you think of what he said earlier.

“What?” Ezra asks.

“It’s big,” you whisper as you dip your head and engulf his cock.

Ezra’s hands find your head and push your Y/H/C hair out of your face as he watches you bob up and down on his cock.

“Oh—fu—so good,” Ezra moans.

You lather his cock with your saliva as you reach up and cup his balls. You feel his hands tighten on your head.

“Fuck,” Ezra hisses. He’s had only release with his hand since he’s been on the green but your mouth on him feels amazing.

You keep moving your head up and down his length, your tongue circling his girth. You moan as you think of his cock inside of you.

“Fu—oh—yes,” Ezra hisses out.

You release his cock and stand beside the bunk, stripping away the rest of your clothes.

Ezra has his hand on the base of his cock as he watches you strip then kneel back on the bunk. He moans loudly as you straddle him and place your hand on top of his.

“Fu—Y/N,” Ezra pants as he feels your pussy sink slowly onto his cock. Being inside of you is heaven to him.

You put your hands against Ezra’s chest and begin rolling your hips. You arch your back as you get accustomed to his length and girth inside of you.

“Yes,” you moan as you clench your pussy against his cock.

“Fuck!” Ezra nearly shouts as he feels your pussy tighten around him.

You smile as you lean down and brush your lips against his.

Ezra pulls you back to him as you pull away. “I should’ve gotten hurt sooner.”

You grin and look at him. “Or you could’ve just asked to get naked with me.”

“Oh, god,” Ezra moans he couldn’t wait to return the favor and take care of you.

Ezra strokes your cheek, “yes, I should have.”

You pull away from him and begin rolling your hips faster. Your orgasm builds inside of you rapidly.

Ezra squeezes your hips as his own orgasm rises inside of him.

Your fingers dig into Ezra’s chest. Your Y/E/C eyes are on his as you bite your lip and arch your back.

“Ezra,” you let out in a low moan as your orgasm moves through your body.

“Y/N,” Ezra moans as he feels your pussy milk his cock. He grasps your hips as he thrusts up into you and explodes inside of your pussy, emptying himself.

You roll your hips lightly, still wanting to feel his cock inside of you.

Ezra sits up on his elbows.

You lean down and kiss Ezra lightly.

Ezra pulls you down against him and runs his hands up and down your back.

You half moan, half sigh at his touch.

“Give me some time to rest and I’ll take care of you,” Ezra whispers against your forehead.

You smile, “I’ll give you all the rest you need Ezra. I definitely need you to care of me in more ways than one.”

Ezra grins, “you can count on me.”

Tags: @pascalisthepunkest​, @kaelyn-lobrutto24​, @mandadl0rian​, @jokersdoll​, @knight-of-heart44​, @cosmo-bear​, @caitlincat-95​, @random066​, @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​, @longitud-de-onda​, @bonkybaaarnes​, @earl-01​

#wounded oneshot #ezra prospect #ezra prospect smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #space pedro pascal #space pedro pascal smut #oneshot #smut #anon request #pedro pascal character ezra #ezra x you #ezra x reader

[themomentsinthedark]

Well this is fun...

CW: Depression, anxiety, self-harm, suicidal tendencies and thoughts

Ways to tell if your high functioning depressive/anxious friend (ie. me) is in a depressive episode (ie. right now):

1. They tell you, maybe not directly, but they mention the things listed below or just stop saying anything.

2. They send you things at really random hours cause time is no longer a concept and they’re probably not sleeping.

3. they probably have massive bags under their eyes that the strongest cover-up can’t hide because they literally don’t sleep/ only sleep now because they spend most of their time off trying to sleep without success.

4. Not being able to sleep makes them anxious about going to sleep so which makes them not want to sleep which make them more sleep deprived which spirals them into a series of panic attacks until they eventually take their sleeping meds like they should be in the g-ddamn first place (but they hate their sleeping meds cause they make them so tired the next day and the cycle repeats.)

5. They seem to not want to stop hanging out / or they shut down really quick really fast when out and become short with you. If its the first it is because they know as soon as you stop being around they will just be alone again and that's when the scary thoughts happen and so far they can still tolerate being there. When the second happens it because whether they want to or not their brain has decided that they are done and the thoughts can’t be suppressed so it's not that they hate you it's that their brain is short-circuiting on the high functioning aspect and they need to leave... like two minutes ago. Negative thoughts are a regular occurrence for someone who is depressed and anxious. But during episodes, they become that much more severe.

6. They eat everything and then nothing... for days. It all tastes like different flavours of cardboard. Some cardboard is more tolerable than others and sometime you want all the cardboard and sometime you want no cardboard.

7. They casually mention how they’re tired of life, society, people or just want to rest. That’s how they talk about the suicidal thoughts they have at any given moment. Being suicidal and still being here is exhausting. I also understand the reason people become very concerned when you say you have suicidal thoughts. But like, I’ve had them since grade 2 and I’m still kickin’ it so somethings working. I just need to talk about wanting to not be alive anymore sometimes and I don’t want it to be serious, cause then I have to deal with your emotions and that’s even more exhausting when I can’t even handle my own. Just like agree that life and survival are fucking exhausting and it would be nice to not be anymore but then talk to me about some event or activity coming up in a few weeks. Because when I’m panicked and seriously contemplating ending my life later on that night I will think of that thing coming up and be like ”well I can’t die till after that.” It can be as simple as promising to check out a new coffee shop. It’s what’s worked every time in the past. That and needing to prove people wrong. Stubbornness is a great antidote. Being high functioning comes with an obsessive need for achievement and perfection ( that is it’s own fun adventure in imposter syndrome and fear of failure on its own) which allows for something coming up to be the reason to keep going. Which is why when people tell me to cut back on what I’m doing  I joke I would die. It’s cause I would. I could legitmatley kill me. I can’t cut back because that’s when I get my most suicidal. But I also know I need to. Because it could also kill me to not. In the same and different ways. But so far for 24 years I've walked the line. So... I guess it's fine.

(we got personal in the last one, the ‘I’ is coming out. Damn.)

8. We don’t answer you immediately or for a few days, but we don’t hate you. Personally, I’m working to just keep my head above water between work and school and combating the depressive episode that has decided to take up space in my body. Answering your text or message becomes last priotrity and if the choice is lying in bed blankly staring at space while listening to music or a podcast vs answering you I choose the first. Depression makes concetration really hard sometime and therefore I cannot find the energy to pick up my phone nor the concetration to find a suitable answer for you that my anxiety won’t then tell me is silly and wrong.

9. If you need mental support, just ask if I’m up for it before beginning. I’ll probably say yes, even if I’m not cause it’s who I am, but allowing me to consent to fucking my mental state is much kinder than not. It’s also allowing me to define my emotional labour boundaries. That said if your in crisis then this goes out the door and you reach out the moment you need something (note: not for everyone, just for me.)

10. If I’m late it’s probably because I have to account for at least a half hour of mentally preparing to leave my house and another half hour trying to talk myself out of bailing. If I’m not coming from home then it’s normally because I suck at time management and will also sit in my car preping to face people. This is amplified during depressive episodes. I also feel like a dumpster fire of trash when I'm late so like, I get it. You do not need to shame me. I can and am do it just fine for myself and even beat you to it since mine probably started when I was lying in bed, staring at my phone for the time and knowing that if I didn't get up I would be late again. And I still didn't get up. So trust me, I've got shaming down to a fine art on this one.

12. They physically manifest in headaches, stomach aches, panic attacks, sore and/or clenched muscles, ext. I'm not making this up. Don't gaslight me. It's not all in my head. Just cause you can't see cancer doesn't mean it doesn't hurt and cause physical pain. Same with any mental shit.

13. This one is for anyone who needs the reminder: your brain that tells you all these lies is only a small portion of all things it contains. That map of Canada from grade 5 geo holds the same space as that space of negativity. It does not make you. It does not define you. It does not own you. It is small and powerless and it wants nothing more than power. But it has to fight you, and you're strong as hell.

14. To be continued possibly...maybe... when I can write again.

This is where I’m at. I’m now going to try and sleep because tomorrow is a long andscary day. ”I’m prepared to be pleseantly surprised if it works” - bedtime mantra.  

[thelastspeecher]

Stan-at-Home - Chapter 5: Responsibility; Recovery

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6 Chapter 7   AO3

It’s finally here!  The next chapter of “Stan-at-Home”, my fic that takes place in an AU where Stan is a stay-at-home dad.  And as I was writing this chapter, I decided that, even with these super-long chapters, I can’t tell the story I want to tell in just six of them.  So as of right now, this fic will have seven chapters.  We’ll see if I write too much and I increase it to eight.  Anyways, in this chapter, Ford gets high, there are multiple surprise visits, and brain surgery has side effects.  Enjoy.

               “Ugh.”  Ford groaned without realizing what he was groaning about.  He was in a room, somewhere.  His surroundings were blurry, so he didn’t have his glasses on.  

               And…I’m not wearing underwear. Ford groaned again.  What happened?  Where am I?  There was rustling to his left.  He winced as someone carefully slid something onto his face.  The room became clear.  My glasses.  Okay then.  

               “Howdy there, sleepin’ beauty,” a voice said quietly.  Ford turned his head carefully.  He frowned at the woman sitting by his bed.  She looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.  “Stan actually just left to go pick up the kids.” She cocked her head.  “Everything all right, Stanford?  Doc said the surgery went well.”

               “Angie!” Ford burst out suddenly.  Angie jumped, startled.  

               “What?” she asked.

               “Nothing, I just- I remembered who you were,” Ford mumbled.  Angie raised an eyebrow in amusement.

               “Ya forgot me, huh?  At least ya figured it out.”  She leaned forward and adjusted one of Ford’s pillows.  The paperback novel that was sitting on her lap slid off.  “Oh, shoot,” she said in a good-natured tone, picking the book up again.  Ford looked at it with interest.

               “Is that a Star Trek novel?”

               “Hmm?  Oh, yes,” Angie replied.  

               “I didn’t take you for a Trekkie,” Ford remarked.  Angie chuckled.

               “Don’t think ya can call me that.  I only ever seen a few episodes of the show.  Mostly just read the books.”

               “Why?”

               “My older brother, Harper, he works in movie special effects.  I like them sci-fi things, mostly ‘cause of the biological implications of ‘em.  But I can’t watch a good old-fashioned space shootout without hearin’ Harper’s voice in the back of my mind, blabbin’ on and on ‘bout how they did it.”

               “He works in Hollywood?” Ford asked, surprised.  

               “Yep.”

               “Did he help with anything I might have seen?”

               “Oh, definitely,” Angie said, grinning.  “Ya ever heard of Indiana Jones?”

               “No.  There’s no possible way that your older brother worked on Raiders of the Lost Ark,” Ford said immediately.

               “He did.  His name’s in the credits.  Harper pointed it out to me.”

               “But that’s- your brother worked on a Spielberg film?”

               “Yep.  Got headhunted to work on the next one, too.”

               “Holy-”  Ford shook his head.  “That’s incredible.  Why did Fiddleford never tell me?”  The lighthearted smile on Angie’s face slipped away.  “…I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

               “No, it’s- it’s fine, Stanford,” Angie said in a falsely cheery voice. She bit her lip and looked down at her lap, carefully smoothing the fabric of her purple skirt.  Ford rubbed his eyes.  The room was fuzzy again, but this time not in sight.  Rather, it was fuzzy in feeling.  He could have sworn his body was lighter than usual, and a question he’d wanted to ask for two weeks suddenly didn’t seem inappropriate.

               “I’ve been wondering,” Ford said.  “Back when we met with Dr. Carmichael the first time, Stan said something.”  Angie frowned.

               “He was fairly quiet, though.”

               “True.  But when she asked him if he had any sons, he said ‘Not right now’.”  Ford looked at Angie.  “Are you going to have any sons?”

               “Is this yer way of askin’ me if I’m pregnant?” Angie asked.  “‘Cause I ain’t.  Not that it’s really yer business, anyways.”

               “No, I wasn’t talking about right now.  I mean, in the future, will you?”

               “Whether or not I have a son is a bit out of my control,” Angie said.  “I know Stan would like one.  He’s got grand ideas ‘bout baseball and other stereotypical father-son things.  Which is, frankly, ridiculous.  There’s a 50% chance that if we did have a son, he’d be more McGucket than Pines, and wouldn’t be a fan of baseball and grillin’ and whatever dads do with sons in movies.”

               “You’re dancing around the topic,” Ford said.  “I can tell because I do the same thing.”

               “Fine, I suppose I’ll tell ya what Stan ‘n I have planned, even though ya don’t need to know,” Angie said shortly.

               She didn’t need to be rude about it.

               “We’re plannin’ on at least one more kid.  Not fer a couple years, though.  We want the girls to be in kindergarten before they get a lil sibling.  And if that goes well, havin’ a fourth, when the third one is ‘bout two or three.”  Angie idly picked at her nails.  “It’s a couple more kids ‘n I planned on, but Stan loves bein’ a dad so much. And I love havin’ a big fam’ly.” She rolled her eyes.  “And even though the girls were a bit rough on me fer the nine months they lived in me, it wasn’t as bad as I was worried it’d be.”

               “Yes, so, what is it like to be pregnant?” Ford asked.  Angie eyed him.

               “Them drugs are somethin’ else, huh.”

               “I do feel a bit strange,” Ford conceded.  “You didn’t answer my question, though.”  He paused.  “But maybe you did.  If you’re willing to go through it two more times, it can’t be that bad.”

               “Oh, darlin’,” Angie said, shaking her head.  “Spoken like someone who won’t ever have to worry ‘bout bein’ pregnant.  It ain’t no walk in the park.  I mean, I couldn’t exactly take walks in the park when my feet swelled up.”

               “Really.  What else did the pregnancy do to your body?” Ford asked.  Angie looked at him, perplexed.  

               “Stanford, yer my brother-in-law, yes.  But that don’t really give ya authority to know my medical history.”

               “We’re family,” Ford cajoled, the words slurring together.  Angie adjusted his pillows again.  “You can tell me.”

               “I can, but I won’t.  Anyways, seems like yer ‘bout to pass out.  Get yer rest, Stanford.  If yer still curious ‘bout pregnancy when ya wake up, I’ll fetch the books Stan was given by my older brother.”  She stroked his head.  “Sleep well.”

----- 

               “Annnnd…done,” Stan said as he wrapped a hair tie around a clump of dark brown curls.  “You’re all ready to go, kiddo.”  Daisy, who had sat patiently on the floor while Stan braided her hair, jumped up eagerly. She kissed him on the cheek.

               “Thank you, Daddy!”

               “You got it, sweetie,” Stan replied, poking her nose.  Daisy giggled and ran off to play building blocks with Danny and Tate.  Stan leaned back on the couch with a sigh.  “Ford, those pain meds kickin’ in yet?” he asked idly.  There was no response.  “Stanford?”  Stan looked over.  Ford was sitting at the kitchen table, staring intently at a blue sippy cup in front of him.  He reached out a hand to touch the cup, seemingly engrossed by the cartoon characters decorating the sides.  Stan raised an eyebrow.  “Uh, Ford, that’s Danny’s drink, y’know.  If ya want juice, you need to get your own cup.”

               “Mm,” Ford mumbled, not looking away from the cup, which was half-full of apple juice from breakfast.  When Ford didn’t say anything, Stan prompted him.

               “Do you want juice, Ford?”  After a moment, Ford shook his head slowly.  “All right.  If ya do, lemme know.”  The phone rang.  Stan stood up, groaning quietly.  He walked over and picked up the phone.  “This is Stan speakin’.”

               “Stanley, did Stanford ever get ahold of you?” Ma Pines asked abruptly. Stan blinked, startled.

               “Uh, yeah, Mom.  He’s actually gonna be stayin’ with me for a bit.”

               “Okay, good.  He called me to get your number, but never followed up.  And you never called to tell me anything about him, either.  I got worried!”

               “Sorry ‘bout that,” Stan mumbled.  He cleared his throat.  “Actually, uh, I was about to call ya.”

               “Don’t lie to your mother.”

               “No, I really was!” Stan protested.  Danny looked up from her blocks to stare at him.  Stan winced, suddenly realizing how juvenile he had just sounded.

               And in front of my kids and nephew…oops.

               “What would make you suddenly wanna pick up a phone to call me?” Ma Pines demanded.  Stan rubbed the back of his neck and turned away from his daughter’s judgmental gaze.

               “My, um, my wife said I should,” Stan muttered.  

               “Your what?”

               “My wife.  Her- her name’s Angie.”

               “You got married?!  When did that happen?”

               “1978,” Stan replied quietly.  There was a pause.  “Uh, Mom?”

               “You got married four years ago and didn’t tell your mother?!”

               “…Yes, ma’am.”

               “You didn’t invite me!”

               “I didn’t want Pops to see the invitation and come,” Stan said quickly. “So I told Angie that you, uh, you weren’t around.”

               “‘Weren’t around’?  Stanley Pines, did you kill me off?” Ma Pines asked, in a low tone that suggested she was barely keeping her anger under control.

               “…Yeah,” Stan said reluctantly.  “And, uh, also my- my last name isn’t Pines anymore.  I took Angie’s last name,” he added quickly.

               “Huh.”  That last tidbit of information seemed to take Ma Pines by surprise, calming her anger for the moment.  “Well, that’s certainly something.”

               “The reason behind it is…complicated.  But Angie had no clue you were around, or she woulda called you by now.  She- she wanted me to say that.  She even wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget.”

               “Hmm.”

               “I think you’d like her.  Angie’s, uh, her family calls her a firecracker.”

               “She’d have to be, to be able to handle you.”

               “Yeah…”  Stan looked down at his feet.  “There’s one other thing I need to tell ya.”

               “And what would that be?” Ma Pines said cautiously.  Stan winced, well aware of how poorly his mother would take the news.

               “You’ve got two granddaughters,” Stan said.  He fought the urge to go hide in a bomb shelter somewhere.

               “What?!” Ma Pines yelped.

               “Twin girls.  Danica Viola and Daisy Leigh.  They’re about three years old now.  Funny story, actually, Angie was still goin’ to college when she got pregnant, so her kids went to her graduation.  Well, they’re her kids but they’re also mine.  I helped make ‘em,” Stan said.

               Stop, Stan.  You’re rambling.  

               “Danica and Daisy.”

               “Yes.”

               “You waited until my granddaughters were three to tell me about them?!”

               “I-”

               “Your address hasn’t changed since we last spoke, has it?”

               “No, I-”  Stan felt someone tug at his shirt.  He looked down.  “What is it, princess?” he asked Danny.  Danny pointed at the front door, which was wide open.

               “Uncle Ford’s gone,” she said quietly.  Stan’s heart stopped.

               Ford’s gone.  He’s a grown man that had brain surgery two weeks ago and is on a serious pain med high.  Shit shit shit.

               “Uh, Mom, I’m gonna have to call you back,” he said into the mouthpiece, his voice shaking slightly.  “Gotta situation over here.”

               “With twins, there’s always a situation,” Ma Pines said idly.  She hung up the phone.  Stan blindly slammed the phone in the general direction of the hook for a few times before he got it right.  

               “Good eye, Danny,” Stan said.  He fought back his panic and scooped Danny up in his arms.  “Daisy, Tate, come on, we gotta get shoes on!  We’re gonna go on a Ford hunt!”

----- 

               Angie opened the door to the room they set aside for children separated from their parents at the zoo.  Jim, one of the people who worked admissions, walked over to her quickly.

               “I got a page sayin’ I needed to pick someone up?” Angie asked.  Jim nodded.

               “Yeah, uh, this guy’s your brother-in-law, right?” Jim said, pointing to a man sitting on a bench.  Angie sighed.

               “Yes.  That’s him.”

               “So do you wanna take him home or…?”

               “I’ll call my husband in a minute.  Thanks, Jim,” Angie said.  Jim nodded.  Angie walked over to Ford and took a seat next to him.  “Stanford?”  Ford looked at her, a wide grin stretched across his face.

               “Hello, Dr. McGucket!” he said in a very loud voice.  Angie stifled a groan.

               “Did ya take yer meds today?” she asked.  Ford nodded.  “And after ya took yer meds-”

               “I left!” Ford said cheerfully.  He scoffed.  “I don’t need to be nannied by my twin brother.  Especially given that he’s the younger one.”  Feeling something tugging her pants leg, Angie looked down.  She blinked at the goat chewing on her slacks.

               “Stanford, do ya know this goat?” she asked slowly.

               “Yep!  Rented him.”

               “Why?”

               “Well, Apple is clearly not a dog,” Ford started.  “For one thing, he knows about my connections with Bill.  This is excruciatingly obvious.”

               “How do ya know, did Apple tell ya or somethin’?” Angie asked idly.  Ford frowned.

               “No.  I didn’t ask. I should ask.”

               “No, ya should go home.”  Ford shook his head.  “Stanford, ya can’t stay at the zoo all day.  Why did ya come here in the first place?”

               “So that the goat I rented could meet the other goats!” Ford chirped. Angie frowned.

               “What?” she asked.  Ford looked around carefully and then leaned closer to her.

               “I’m here to free the other animals,” he said in an exaggerated whisper. Angie stared at him, perplexed.

               “With…the goat?”

               “The goat is my accomplice.”

               “Uh-huh.  I’m goin’ to call Stan.  He’ll come pick ya up.”  Angie stood up.  Ford tugged at her shirt desperately.

               “Don’t leave me alone with them!” he said.  Angie looked at the people he was pointing toward.  She sighed.

               “They’re ‘bout six years old.  I highly doubt they’ll mug ya and steal the goat, darlin’.”

               “You don’t know!” Ford protested.  Angie groaned.

               “Just stay put while I call Stan!  Then I’ll come and protect ya from the children.”

               “And the goat.”

               “Yes, I will protect you and the goat.”

----- 

               “How did your dog even reach the shelves?” Ford asked.  Now officially a month post-operation, Ford’s pain medication had decreased to a more manageable dosage.  He was relieved to have his mind clear again, even if that meant he had to pick up some responsibilities.  For example, he was keeping an eye on the three children while Stan cleaned up the bathroom.

               “It’s a weird dog,” Stan said with a sigh.

               “Not only did it dig through the bathroom trash, but it somehow knocked over all the shampoo bottles.”

               “Don’t need a play-by-play, Sixer.”

               “I’m just impressed by your dog’s appetite for destruction.”  The doorbell rang.  

               “Ford, get it, would ya?” Stan asked.  

               “On it.”  Ford got up from the couch and opened the door.  He was face-to-face with two men, both of whom had very large noses.  The shorter one squinted at Ford with gray eyes.

               “Yer not Stan,” the stranger said.

               “Uh, no.  May I ask who you are?” Ford asked.  The man opened his mouth, but before he could speak, he was interrupted by a shout.

               “Unclute!” Daisy shrieked happily, running past Ford to grab onto the man’s leg.  The man chuckled.

               “Hey there, munchkin,” he said, crouching down, picking her up, and standing again.  He poked her belly.  “Gosh, yer bigger ‘n bigger each time I see ya.”  Daisy tugged on the man’s dark hair.  

               “We gotta new uncle!” she said exuberantly.  She pointed at Ford.  “He’s our Uncle Ford!”  The man smiled at Ford.

               “Howdy, the name’s Lute, the feller standin’ by me is my older brother, Harper.”

               “So this is the mysterious ‘Ford’,” Harper said.  He pushed his rectangular glasses further up the bridge of his nose.  “Howdy.”

               “Uh, hello.”

               “Who is it?” Stan called.

               “Two men named Lute and Harper!” Ford replied.

               “They’re Angie’s older brothers, let ‘em in,” Stan said.  Ford stood to the side.  The brothers filed in.  Harper made a beeline for Danny, who was building a very complex vehicle with her Legos.

               “Howdy, kidlet,” Harper said gently.  Danny beamed at him and, like her sister, embraced her uncle’s leg. Harper laughed.  “Yer just as clingy as yer ma used to be.”  Danny squeezed her uncle’s leg tighter.  Ford could see the family resemblance between Angie and her brothers.  Not only did all three have the same nose, but they had similar cheekbones, and Harper’s hair was the same color as Angie’s.  

               “So, Ford, I heard ‘bout who ya are,” Lute said.  Ford turned.  Lute had put Daisy down and was now staring at him, his arms crossed.  “Yer relation to Tate, fer one thing.”  At the sound of his name, Tate looked up from his picture book.

               “Uncle Lute?”

               “Oh, hey kidlet.  Didn’t see ya there,” Lute said.  Tate shrugged.  “Don’t worry, you ain’t in trouble.  Yer dad is, though.”

               “Okay,” Tate said, turning his attention back to his book.

               “In my defense-” Ford started.

               “Don’t care,” Lute said abruptly.  “Ya didn’t contact yer college roommate fer so long.  That’s yer own dang fault.  So is not tellin’ his fam’ly what happened to him.”

               “Look, I-”

               “Don’t bother arguin’ with Lute,” Stan said.  He walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him. “Lute’s too dang stubborn to change his mind ‘bout anything.”  Stan smiled at his brothers-in-law.  “Hey, Lute, Harper.  Good to see ya again.”  Lute frowned at Stan.

               “I ain’t happy with ya either, Stan.”

               “Neither of us are,” Harper said.  “Ya lied to our baby sister.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly.

               “Yeah, I know I did a pretty shi- cruddy thing,” Stan said.  “But at least she knows now.”

               “The only reason she knows is ‘cause yer twin brother showed up out of the blue,” Lute pointed out.  “Ya weren’t even plannin’ on tellin’ her!  Is the Pines fam’ly just full of- of dishonorable men?”  

               “…‘Dishonorable men’?” Stan asked.  “Now I’m too amused to be scared of ya, McGucket.”  Lute crossed his arms.

               “What else am I s’posed to call the two of ya?” Lute asked.

               “To be fair, our older brother Shermie is, by all accounts, a decent guy,” Ford put in.  Lute raised an eyebrow.

               “So he must’ve taken up all the decentness when he was born then, huh?” Lute said.  Stan rolled his eyes.

               “Look, I get that you guys are upset,” Stan said.  “But we’re brothers now, right?”

               “Right,” Harper said after a beat.

               “Maybe cut me a bit of slack?  And I guess Ford, too.  He didn’t know about Tate.”

               “He should’ve,” Lute said immediately.

               “I’m not disagreein’ with ya,” Stan said.  

               “Thanks, Stan,” Ford muttered.  There was a clatter from the kitchen.

               “No, Gompers!” Danny said, detaching herself from Harper’s leg.  She padded over to the goat, who was digging through the trash it had just knocked over.  “Bad goat,” she said, patting him on the back.  Lute and Harper stared.

               “The goat’s new,” Lute said idly.

               “Yeah,” Stan said, walking over to the latest mess to pick it up.  He shoved the goat’s head away from him. “Ford rented it when he was on a pain med bender.  Somethin’ about proving Apple’s a chupacabra.  Of course, since Apple’s a dog, not a Mexican demon, nothin’ happened.”  Stan glared at Ford.  “Then Apple and the goat had to go and become friends, so the kids freaked out when Angie and I tried to return it.”

               “Uncle Ford got upset, too,” Daisy said helpfully.  

               “Oh yeah.  We had to buy the darn thing so that the literal children and my adult twin brother wouldn’t cry,” Stan finished.  Ford flushed.

               “Stanley, please.”

               “Hey, Daisy’s the one who brought it up.  You got a problem, talk to her,” Stan said, setting the trashcan upright again.

               “Uh, pain med bender?” Lute said slowly.  

               “Uncle Ford’s brain was broked,” Danny supplied, now hugging Gompers. “Doctors fixed it, but he was a bit funny after.”

               “Stanford, you had brain surgery?” Harper asked.  Ford nodded.

               “Yes.  Nothing too concerning, although it was decreasing my quality of life immensely,” Ford said.  Stan scoffed.

               “‘Nothing too concerning,’ he says,” Stan muttered under his breath.

               “If you’d told us, we would’ve been easier on ya,” Lute said.

               “…Oh,” Ford said, unsure of how to respond.

               “When Uncle Ford ran away, he got ice cream without us!” Daisy said.

               “Well, that’s just rude,” Lute said to his young niece.  

               “Yeah, Ford escaped when I turned my back for two minutes,” Stan explained.  “He bought an ice cream cone, rented a goat, and went to the zoo.”

               “Why would ya bring a goat to the zoo?  Zoo’s already got those,” Harper said, taking a seat on the couch.  Lute joined him.

               “The goat was my accomplice in freeing the animals from the petting zoo,” Ford said.  He let out a small chuckle, remembering the blissful ignorance of his scrambled mind.  “It all made perfect sense at the moment.”

               “It always does,” Harper said sagely.  

               “So how long are you two gonna stay?” Stan asked as he finally finished picking up the scattered pieces of trash.  “Ya have to stay for dinner.  Angie’d be upset if she missed ya.  But if you wanna stay overnight, you’ll have to camp in the living room.  Ford’s got the guestroom.”

               “Oh, no, we were just plannin’ on comin’ down fer a friendly scoldin’ and yellin’ session,” Lute said breezily.  “Don’t want to impose.”

               Apparently the McGuckets have a different definition of “friendly” than I do, if scolding and yelling qualifies. As though he could read Ford’s mind, Lute turned to Ford.

               “Now, this is a friendly session, trust me. If it weren’t, you’d prob’ly be in tears.”

               “After the things I’ve seen, not much can bring me to tears,” Ford remarked.

               “Aside from separating a goat and a dog,” Harper said, raising an eyebrow.

               “In my defense, they had befriended each other.  What sort of monster would break apart such a lovely relationship?” Ford replied.  Lute and Harper both chuckled.  Stan caught Ford’s eye and winked.  Ford knew what Stan would say later.

               “See?  Ya freaked out over Tate and the McGuckets.  But ya didn’t need to.  They’re good people, and even you can be a charmer when ya try to.”  

-----

               Ford handed Tate his backpack.

               “I’ve packed some pictures I took in the field, as a treat,” Ford told his son.  “Not- not the edible kind of treat.  Please don’t eat the pictures.”

               “It’s okay, Dad, I know,” Tate said calmly.  He cocked his head.  “What are they of?”

               “Our, ahem, mutual friend,” Ford said with a wink.  Tate’s eyes widened.

               “Bigfoot?”

               “The one and only.  Well, actually, there is more than one bigfoot.  There are whole societies of them, and Gravity Falls has one in the nearby mountain range.”

               “Wow.  Will you take me there?  Please?” Tate begged.  The doorbell rang.  Ford smiled.

               “If your mother gives me permission to take you next summer, or even sooner, absolutely,” he replied.  Tate beamed.  The doorbell rang again.  “I should get that.  It’s your mother, no doubt.”  Ford walked over and opened the front door.  Jenny McGucket smiled politely.

               “Stanford.  You look well.”

               “I feel better than I did last time we spoke.”

               “Clearly,” Jenny said.  She peered past Ford.  “Tater Tot! You ready to go?”

               “I need to say goodbye to folks first,” Tate said, running out of the living room.  He zipped into the girls’ bedroom, where Stan was helping Danny and Daisy get dressed.

               “Did Tate have a good time?” Jenny asked Ford.  

               “I believe so.  He’s quite the smart boy.”

               “Yes, he is.  I’m awful proud of him,” Jenny said.  “The two of you got along all right?”

               “Yes, we did.  And actually,” Ford said, deciding to be upfront, “I’d like to talk custody with you sometime.”

               “Custody?”

               “When Fiddleford returns, I assume the two of you will maintain primary custody.  But I’d like to have Tate during the summer, at least,” Ford said.  “The lion’s share of my research is done then, and Tate has shown a vested interest in my work.”  Jenny bit her lip.  “What? I thought you’d be happy that I’m trying to be an involved father.”

               “Oh, I am.  It’s just that…I’m not sure if you’re ready for it quite yet.”

               “What do you mean?”

               “You watched him for about a month and a half.  And you had help, from Stan and Angie, who both have more experience in childcare than you do.  On your own, in a different state, for three whole months?  I’m sorry, Stanford, I just don’t think you can handle it right now.”

               “Tate is-”

               “Very well-behaved, particularly for a child of his age.  But he’s still a child.”  Jenny smiled apologetically.  “Maybe we can begin the custody conversation after Fidds comes back.  It’s just- Stanford, were you ever left alone, in charge of the kids, during this entire time? Even for ten minutes?”

               “…No,” Ford conceded.  

               “I’m sorry to hit you with this right now,” Jenny said quietly.  “So soon after your surgery.”

               “It’s been seven weeks; I’m not an invalid anymore,” Ford said, bristling.

               “All right,” Jenny said after a moment, in a decidedly neutral tone.  “Tater Tot, we have to get going!”

               “Coming, Mom!” Tate called, running back to the front door.  “Dad, I need to say goodbye to you, too.”

               “Oh.  Of course.” Ford crouched down for a hug.  He squeezed his son tightly.

               Don’t think about how long it might be before you see him again.  Don’t do it.

               “Goodbye, Tate,” Ford said quietly.

               “Bye, Dad.”  Tate broke off the hug and beamed at him.  “Next summer, we’re gonna go find bigfoot, right?”

               “We’ll see,” Ford said with a weak smile.  

               “Bye, Stan, thank Angie for me, will ya?” Jenny called.

               “Yep!” Stan shouted back.  Jenny and Tate left the house, Tate making a small wave at Ford as he walked away.  Ford closed the door and leaned against it.

               “Damn,” Ford whispered.

               I can’t believe I’ve grown so attached to Tate, given the short amount of time that I’ve known him.  Maybe Fiddleford will be able to convince Jenny about the custody arrangement.  …No, that won’t happen.  Not after what I did.  Ford’s musings were cut short by his nieces rocketing down the hallway, shrieking at the tops of their lungs.

               “Breakfast, breakfast, breakfast!” Danny and Daisy yelled, racing through the living room and into the kitchen like twin tornadoes.  Despite himself, Ford cracked a half-smile at their innocent enthusiasm.  Stan followed his daughters at a more languid pace.  

               “Okay, gremlins,” Stan said, picking up his daughters and putting them in their chairs.  “Breakfast, it is.  Today is Leftover Wednesday.  On the menu, we have leftover hashbrowns, leftover pancakes, fruit, and toast.  What’ll it be?”

               “Corn stuff,” Daisy said promptly.

               “Did I say corn stuff was on the menu?” Stan asked.

               “…No.”

               “It’s Leftover Wednesday,” Stan reminded her.

               “Leftover corn stuff,” Danny suggested.  

               “There’s never any leftover corn stuff.  You monsters eat it like a plague of locusts,” Stan said, exasperated.  

               “What’s that?” Daisy asked.  Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

               “It’s when a bunch of grasshoppers eat all the crops and don’t leave anything behind,” Stan explained.  

               “I’m not a grasshopper!” Daisy protested.  

               “No, you’re pickier than one.  If you two don’t make up your minds soon, I’ll choose for you,” Stan said.

               “Fruit!” Danny yelled.

               “Cakepans!” Daisy shouted.  Stan winced slightly at his daughters’ loud voices, but carried on.

               “Hot or cold?” Stan asked.

               “Cold,” Daisy said.

               “Got it.  An order of fruit and an order of pancakes comin’ up,” Stan said.  Ford, who had been watching the exchange idly, frowned.

               Hmm.  That’s certainly an idea.  

               “Uh, Stan?” Ford said, after Stan had given his daughters their breakfasts.  Stan walked over.

               “Yeah?”

               “Could I- could I babysit the girls sometime?  So that I have more experience in taking care of children.”

               “This is a joke, right?” Stan said.  “Sixer, leave the comedy to the pros.”

               “It’s not a joke.”

               “You really wanna babysit my demon spawn?” Stan asked.  “You’ve been around, you know that the two of ‘em are hel- heck on wheels.”

               “Yes.  I’ve seen the chaos they seem to court, but I’ve also seen the methods you use to calm them down,” Ford said.  “Anyways, isn’t it my responsibility as an uncle to help supervise?”  Stan eyed him.

               “I’ll talk to Angie about it,” Stan said after a moment.  “Right now, go do your physical therapy.”

               “Very well,” Ford said.  

               It’s not much, but given how protective Stan is of his children, it’s a start.  Ford walked into the kitchen and took a seat next to Danny, who beamed at him.  Stan placed a sheet of paper and a comically large pencil in front of Ford.

               “What’s the task for today?” Ford asked, carefully picking up the pencil. He frowned at the tremors in his hand, which were not brought on from caffeine.  Rather, decreased mobility and usage of his dominant hand was one of the surgery’s side effects, along with slurred speech.  At his six week follow-up appointment, Ford had mentioned to Dr. Carmichael that, despite no longer using the pain medication, it seemed like he still was experiencing the medicine’s sedative abilities.  

               “You’ve had this since the operation?” Dr. Carmichael asked.

               “Yes, from the pain medication,” Ford replied. Dr. Carmichael shook her head.

               “No.  These symptoms are from the surgery.”  She took out a piece of paper and began to scribble on it.  “I’ll recommend you to a physical therapist and speech therapist, who will likely give you exercises you can do at home.”  Dr. Carmichael handed the paper to Ford.  “These are temporary, but only if you go through the therapy.”

               “Understood.”

               “You’re doing a drawing today,” Stan replied.

               “What am I drawing?”

               “As many plants as possible,” Stan said.  

               “Daddy!  Gotta go!” Daisy shrieked suddenly, rocking back and forth in her chair.  Stan’s eyes widened.

               “All right, kid, let’s do this,” Stan said, picking Daisy up.  He ran to the bathroom.  

               A few minutes later, Stan returned, holding Daisy again.  Ford looked up from his shakily-drawn lilies.

               “How’d it go?” Ford asked.  Stan beamed.

               “Daisy’s gettin’ closer to losin’ those nasty diapers.  Aren’t ya?” he cooed at his daughter.  Daisy giggled, clearly proud of herself.  “Can’t wait until I’m done with ‘em.”

               “You’ll be dealing with them again, though,” Ford pointed out.  Stan frowned.

               “What?”

               “Don’t you and Angie have plans for more children?”

               “Well, yeah, but not for a while, Sixer, geez.  Don’t scare me like that.  I thought you found a positive test in the trash or somethin’.”

               “Unlike your dog and goat, I don’t dig through the garbage,” Ford retorted, returning to his drawing.  

               “Yeah, and whose fault is it that I have a goat?” Stan said.  The doorbell rang.  “Saved by the bell, Poindexter.”

               “Sure,” Ford mumbled.  As Stan went to get the door, Ford focused on his exercise, carefully etching out a lopsided daisy.  

               “Pretty,” Danny said quietly.  Ford smiled at his niece.  

               “Thank you, Danny.”

               “My goodness, Stanley, why is your hair so long?” a familiar voice said. Ford’s heart leapt into his mouth. He turned.  Standing at the front door was someone he knew very well.  Stan seemed shell-shocked; he took a solid two minutes to croak out his startled response.

               “M-Mom?”

#dad!stan #stanford pines #stanley pines #tate mcgucket #gravity falls oc #angie mcgucket #mrs. mcgucket #Danica Pines #Daisy McGucket #gravity falls #gravity falls au #stay at home stan au #stan at home #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks #Stangie Family

[purkinje-effect]

The Purkinje Effect, 4

Table of Contents

On his way out of the Science! Center, Galen decided to continue touring the city a bit to bide his time, and resumed rounding the bases. He stopped briefly at the elevated Second Base intersection and glanced out over the water that had pooled in the center field. When he noticed the water pump, he wondered whether it was a manmade reservoir. The buildings which hugged the outer field were on stilts, he realized, due to this water body. Waterfront property. Heh.

Strolling down Third Street, he noticed a neon sign advertising “Valentine’s Detective Agency.” They’ve even got themselves a dick or two. Supposing I’m not the only one with a mystery to solve out here. He picked up pace to insist he was minding his own business when a gaggle of guards came out of the other set of dugouts. Home team’s dugouts might have been fashioned into a watering hole, but the visiting team’s dugouts had become the precinct offices, it seemed. The direct foil of home team vs. visitors made Galen feel like the main source of contention in this unassuming town was keeping the drunk tank locked. They must have good liquor, he nodded sagely with a raised brow, skipping briskly across Third Base to round the home stretch.

As he’d strolled, he’d figured he’d scope out the marketplace, but as he passed by the barber shop for the second time that day, he couldn’t help but think of Piper again. He didn’t have much left to burn on supplies, anyway. With the fatigue of resolve embattling him, he pushed the door open to the establishment, only to find Publick Occurrences, like the Science! Center, doubled for a domicile. Most of the end tables were once newspaper dispensers.

“He’s from someplace called Blackstone,” he heard a youthful voice report upstairs. “An’ I didn’t catch the whole thing, but he eats some real weird stuff. I heard ‘im mention he eats MUD? Gross.”

“You did good, kiddo. You’re gonna make a killer reporter when you’re older.” A pause. “Oh, right. I didn’t forget, I swear. You earned these Sugar Bombs, Nat.”

“Right. ...Thanks.” The youth, who, clad in half a dozen kinds of mismatched plaid, ran down the stairs with her prize--a huge box of cereal--she stopped on the third-to-last step and stared at Galen, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Piper! you’ve got company,” she hollered, sprinting out the front door with her Sugar Bombs, likely thinking he’d tailed her home and risked Piper rescinding the reward.

Piper came downstairs and coolly welcomed Galen.

“Sooo, you finally decided to take me up on my offer.”

“Sister?” He thumbed at the door as it finally clicked shut behind him.

“Yeah. About that...” She waved at her couch, but he shook his head. “Diamond City gets kinda... speculative when somebody new breezes through that leaves an impression. Aaand... you certainly have left an impression. I’m guessing you haven’t even been here two or three hours, and already half the people I’ve talked to since we met at Power Noodles are talking about ‘that strange pink mechanic.’ The rumors fly out of hand, and oftentimes it’s up to me to nip ‘em. Or substantiate ‘em.”

“I definitely stick out up here more than back home,” he joked dryly. “Look, I came here wantin’ to apologize for how I came off earlier. Finding you had your sis spying on me, you really are as nosy as I thought. I imagine you’re real good at what you do for a living.” He offered a handshake, and she took it enthusiastically. “Galen.”

“Galen. I’m Piper, though I guess you already knew that.” She rummaged through one of the old newspaper machines across from the couch, to find a pad and pencil, and she began to scrawl immediately. “So. Tell me a little more about your vault.”

“It’s in Blackstone Gorge. 82. About two or three hours’ walk from Pawtucket. What’s left of it, anyway. Your sister heard right about the mud thing. The most common reason we go up top is to collect a few buckets’ worth, and come back inside with it. The more I talk to people above-ground, the more I realize that there’s very little normal about Vault 82, even as far as vaults go. I. How long was she followin’ me?”

“Not long, I promise. It was her idea. She’s an entrepreneur, sees an opportunity and seizes it. Knew she could shake me down if she came back with dirt. ...Figurative dirt.” She started turning her memo pad at a slow increasing angle to enterprise on her margins, but shortly after righted it to continue. “Word is you’ve already seen Dr. Sun and Dr. Duff since you stepped foot in town. You’re certainly on a mission. And you didn’t pop into Nick’s place far as I know, so it’s not about a missing persons case or a legal dispute.”

“Nick?”

“Tricky dick Nick Valentine,” she grinned. “I’d wager my hat you couldn’t have missed his office sign.”

“...I came here cause a my appetite,” he half-lied, bristling over how invasive all her investigative nerve felt.

“And an appetite, you’ve certainly got.” She pantomimed him with the bowl of ramen from earlier and he rolled his eyes at her. “Clearly it’s more than that, if you’re seeing not one but two doctors about it. You said you eat mud--we’ve got mud here. But everybody comes to this city looking for answers first, supplies second.”

“Somethin’ we been eatin’ has been makin’ us sick. I’m out here tryin’ to find somebody that knows anything about Vault-Tec equipment, or even a nutritionist. I can’t go home without answers. A fix would be ideal, but I’ve at least gotta get to the bottom of this.” Already he felt like he’d given her a double-wide opening to eviscerate him, and he squirmed preemptively, trying to hide the anxiety with a gesture which asked permission to light up a smoke. Piper nodded, and with a flick of his silver flip-lighter, he was puffing away at another cigarette.

“There’s equipment malfunctioning in your vault, then? You... feel responsible for it, don’t you?”

“They kicked me out, okay?” He flung back his hood at her matter-of-factly, then started pacing. “Yeah, I do feel responsible for the food dispensers goin’ F.U.B.A.R. I ain’t got an explanation what’s wrong with the things, but a handful of my people’s thinkin’... That what gave ‘em reason to kick me out might substantiate their theory I changed settings on the vats or something. Why would I do that! I eat that stuff, too! My brother caught me bingeing on rations. To be fair, even if we did fix the machines, how we still have any paste left is a wonder after two centuries subsisting on it. I don’t blame ‘em for kickin’ me out, even if I didn’t do squat to the machines. I’d a done the same.”

“Yikes.” She had to sit down to process what he was trying to tell her. “What is this... paste? That’s the stuff you took to Duff, right?”

“We only had one food source serviced in 82: food paste. It’s like gruel, but it doesn’t taste like much of anything. First 170 years, nobody had any issues with it. It just stained us pink. At least, that’s what most of us assume turned us all pink. When the machines bugged out, the pink color went from a tint to nearly neon.” He tried his best to be tactful about his personal tone regarding chronology, considering how poorly that had gone over with Sun. “People have started dying in my vault since the machines fritzed, Piper. I don’t know if the paste is missin’ a key ingredient, or if it’s startin’ to finally spoil, or if somebody really has tampered with the machinery. But I figured... somebody out here could give us answers, if people could analyze the paste and tell me what’s wrong with it. All our leadership team has passed away. All of it, and only been replaced spottily from our own people, not Vault-Tec’s.”

“Vault-Tec, Vault... Tec. Mmh.” She tapped her pencil on the spiral of her memo pad. “I doubt you’d find answers at any of the other vaults in the commonwealth. I only know of three. 114′s a hotbed for organized crime, was never finished out and it runs a good length of Boston’s subway lines. 81′s deeply isolationist and they keep to themselves so much, only reason anybody knows about ‘em is the handful of times in the past decade anybody’s come up top for supplies. And allegedly there’s one north of Concord, 111. But no one has ever seen evidence the lift’s ever produced a single soul. No telling if there’s anybody alive in there. However.......” She began to tap her foot instead of her pencil. “There’s a regional office for Vault-Tec in Boston Proper. I’m not sure what kind of district lines their company drew when it came to office jurisdictions back in the day, but that might be a good place to start. I’ve heard they got surplus equipment. And you might even find some terminal entries that’d be relevant, provided you know your way around a keyboard.”

“First place I went from 82 was Worcester. C.I.T. Worcester is overrun with super mutants, but I managed to get a pamphlet before I got caught and had to run for my life from one of those damn lunatics with a nuke.” He pulled it out from a handful of wadded papers in his bag, and smoothed it out on top of one of the newspaper machines. “It was about the different campuses. There’s supposed to be one at Cambridge, one at Jamaica Plain, and one at University Point. They’re smaller trade schools, specifically for biology and med students. If I could find anything about if and how this paste is adversely affecting us, I’m positive it’d be there.”

Piper went pale at mention of the locations.

“Jamaica Plain’s mostly underwater, as is most of University Point. You really can’t trust prewar maps, these days. Most of the cape’s vanished, for one thing. And from what I heard recently, University Point may be above water, even if only barely--but it’s more than a no-go. That’s Institute territory now. As far as Cambridge, that building’s also overrun with super mutants. An alarming trend, I’m noticing. It’s nearly flattened either ways, so I’m not so sure you’d find much.”

“Am I hearing this right? A reporter trying to dissuade somebody from trying to uncover the truth. That sounds mighty yellow, if not outright yellow-bellied,” he grinned, offhandedly eating his cigarette butt.

“Hey!” she objected, slapping her lap with her memo pad. She cleared her throat lyrically. “Hey. All I’m saying is, you shouldn’t go about it alone. Let me come with you, Blue.”

“Maybe if you stop callin’ me that,” he started, beginning to size up whatever she had in the offices. His eyes fell on a can of cutting fluid, but he retained a poker face about it. “ ...I haven’t got supplies to travel on.”

“Go see Myrna at the surplus. She’ll hook you up.” Piper dug around in a magazine machine, producing a carton of Grey Tortoise cigarettes. “Somethin’ t’barter with. Don’t worry about getting me anything, I’ll be good to go by the time you get back.”

“I’m gonna stop back by the Science! Center to see if Dr. Duff’s got any answers for me, before I do anything else.” He was met with a shrill, awkwardly dismissive bark. “What?”

“You’d have better luck asking Takahashi what’s in that stuff. I promise you, you’re coming out ahead if you don’t go back to her. The volatile chemicals she plays with... Let’s just say the ventilation isn’t so great in that building.” When he squinted at her, she added, “She’s got a half dozen screws loose, and has enough trouble keepin’ up with the eleven students from the schoolhouse. She’s not even allowed to chaperone them anywhere after last time. Believe me. Just go straight over to the Surplus, and get ready to hit the road-- Galen.”

His lip turned, brow arched, at the carton in his hands.

“Myrna. Surplus. ...Got it.”

“Keep the Synth talk to a minimum around her, by the way,” she called downstairs. Piper had already started up to her bedroom, flinging things around eagerly. “She’s probably the most paranoid person in the city. If she asks why you’re pink, tell her you got something for it from Doc Sun. She’ll be fine then on, long as you keep your gloves on.”

“And maybe when I get back, you can tell me why we’re NOT starting with the Commonwealth Institute of Technology,” he ribbed, feeling like she was deliberately withholding information to string him along.

“Oh, Christ, you’re in luck it’s a long walk to North End,” she moaned. 

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 #fo4 fanfic #piper wright #fallout oc #fo4 oc #nat wright #geek #the purkinje effect

[raeisms-blog]

hEY !! 

i’m brad & this is my lil bean rae :-) sry in advanced !! this might get long, so pls bare with me !! 

i just saw lauren jauregui boarding the plane…or maybe it was calliope rae mendoza. yeah, it was probably just rae. the twenty year-old cisfemale from brisbane, australia and is on the plane as a winner. she seems very relaxed and gregarious but also aggressive and destructive, guess that’s why they’ve been dubbed the fallen angel. 

sO here is a bit of background info..

!! TRIGGERS AHEAD: DEATH, DRUGS, ALCOHOL, MISCARRIAGE, FAMILY PROBLEMS !!

she hates being called calliope

she’d rather go by rae or cal, not even callie ( she would make exceptions though !! )

ya gurl is a fallen angel bcus the poor thing has been through so much in the last twenty years, that she’s just stuck in her destructive ways !!

cal has two brothers, one older ( javier ) and a twin ( danny ).

growin up, i wanna say that her parents were just ur avg. parents. like they didn't rly love each other, but they didn't h8 each other??

they didn't really care what rae and her brothers were doing sO they were bein regular kids, hooligans but i wanna say that her older brother javier got mixed in w/ sum bad people

and would often bring along rae and danny with them to parties and stuff just the parties cause i guess whatever her older brother did he wanted to keep it a secret ( and i guess to show whoever he was with that rae and danny were basically untouchable )

so this was all around when she was 13 ( her brother getting mixed w/ the wrong ppl, the parties, etc. )

she wasn't rly down to drink and do drugs and all that bcus she was still young and this was when she was v innocent and optimistic :-)

JUST STATING SOME IMPORTANT EVENTS & INFO. 

so then one day, her family gets a call and find out that javier is in the hospital with critical injuries ( he was shot. boop ) and he passed away which had a domino effect on her and danny

so rae started doing drugs, partyin, she dropped out of school, and ofc her parents never really cared

and then danny started following into javier's footsteps, getting mixed in w/ the wrong ppl which lead him in the exact same place - dead.

the death of her brothers had taken a huge toll on rae. she wouldn’t go home for days on end, not really telling her parents anything 

i wanna say that they were grieving too

then one of the few times that rae had gone home, she saw that her mom was pregnant and then BOOM

her lil sister angelina was born :-)

with angelina, her parents are different.  they care // worry all the time and set boundaries

they  basically think cal's a lost cause and that they can't help her bcus she’s too far gone i guess you could say?? 

like they're nice and all and try to show that they care, but cal's just so bitter and angry

with all that, i also wanna say that w/ rae partyin all the time, she ended up meetin someone who was older and they dated for probs half a year 

& had gotten pregnant !!

her parents ended up kickin her out bcus they wouldn’t support her or her decisions ( yeah this is them being different after the birth of angelina :-) )

and the two were excited despite being young !! 

rae was rly excited for this baby because she was going through rough times often going out partying, drinking and doing drugs and stuff and having the baby would probs slow her down and get her priorities straight in a weird way ya feel?

but she ended up giving birth wAY too early the lil bean was so small and so fragile and was stuck in an incubator and on a breathing tube for about a week. the lil bean only lasted a week before she passed away ;-; the lil bean’s name was gonna b emma

so after that she upped and left her bb daddy and crashed @ a friend’s house for awhile until she got a job and started payin rent ( that friend also told her about this contest !! )

she still has her bad habits and is dependent on mary jane ( she has her med card ) bcus she feels like it’s her fault for going into labor early, like she feels like she didn’t take care of herself enough to prevent it from happenin and has nightmares and stuff

now she has a drink evry night to numb herself out

she wants to be a better person but she’s stuck in her ways

there are so many sides to rae, tbh. she is laid back, one of the boys, and rly caring despite her destructive behavior towards herself.

she doesnt talk about her feelings, she just smokes and drinks them away and pretends that everythin is ok

she’s a sweetheart, but she’s just so lost 

anYWAYS, IF YOU MADE IT TO THE END OF THIS POST, SHOOT ME A MSSG sO THAT WE COULD PLOT !!! thank u for bearing w/ me :-)

#luv me luv me say that u luv me (~￣▽￣)~ #tw: death #tw: drugs #tw: miscarriage #tw: alcohol #tw: family problems

[affectionatealien]

Medbay

This is oldish because I kinda. completely forgot to even post it after I finished it whoops

also it’s really short and like..... the closest I come to writing any sort of Drama(tm) lmao 

Anyways self insert gets injured during an on base incident, Kaz is fussy abt it, that kinda thing

Coming to, the first things I notice are all of the familiar noises of the med bay- the hum of machinery I was used to monitoring, carts rattling down the hallway. Strangely enough, it all feels so foreign, being stuck as the patient and not the bedside doctor. The soreness in my shoulder, a glance confirming the bandaged area, reminding me how I'd gotten here. Mother base had been attacked- they landed on the medical platform, took over. I tried to escape- thought that maybe if I could get away and back to the base I could provide some kind of information to help subdue the threat. I didn't make it out of course- instead I ended up cornered by one of the enemy soldiers. I'd been lucky enough that big boss showed up in time to save me, but not before being injured- shot in the shoulder once, maybe twice. It gets a little fuzzy at that point between the pain and panic. From there it was in and out of consciousness, being rushed into surgery at some point, and then here. 

The door clicking catches my attention, expecting a nurse (hopefully with painkillers- now that I was awake my shoulder wound was more than distracting), and surprised to see a familiar sunglassed face. I manage a weak smile as he hobbles in, closing the door behind him. 

"Lee! You're awake..." He says, making his way to my bed. "I ah, stopped in earlier this morning, but they said you hadn't woke up yet... How are you feeling?"

"Been better... Guess it coulda been worse though, all things considered." I reply. He only shakes his head. 

"Well, I'm at least glad you're taking it well."

"Hey, I'm still kickin', so I can't be too mad about it," I say, shrugging dismissively. "Besides, this is the closest I've gotten to a day off in awhile y'know? Might as well try and enjoy it!" Kaz doesn't seem as amused by the statement as I am.

"Elliot...."

"What?"

"Can you at least pretend to be a little concerned about the fact you could have died? Or that you're injured?" He asks. I huff, going to cross my arms before the sharp pain in my shoulder reminds me that isn't a good idea at the moment.  

"Yeah, I know... Doesn't exactly help to dwell on it though. I made it, and that's what matters."

"You made it this time. What if something happens like this again, though? And this time snake isn't there to save your hide?" 

"I know! Just because I don't wanna fucking talk about it doesn't mean I don't know! And yeah, it is scary! Scary enough I'd rather not have to dwell on it!" I snap, struggling to sit up. His scowl softens, expression turning apologetic.

"Sorry, I- I didn't mean to come off so harsh. It's just.... After I'd heard what happened, I couldn't stop thinking.... If I'd actually lost you..." He trails off, breathing deeply. "I just want you to be safe."

"It's okay, Kaz, I will be. It's just scary for me to think about too... Like you said, if boss hadn't been there..." It's certainly not a pretty thought. "It won't happen again though. I'll make sure of it." 

"Thank you..." He leans down, running a hand through my hair before carefully embracing me. "So will I. I'll do whatever I can.... I've already lost so much, I won't lose you too, not if I can help it." I lean into his embrace, unable to do much else between my damaged shoulder and the IV in my other arm. His warm lips press against my forehead, a reassuring kiss as his hand cups my jaw. It's obvious he wants to wrap himself around me, if it weren't for the bed's railing and the IV line interfering. 

"Hope I'm not intruding too much," Comes a gruff voice from the doorway. We'd been too caught up with each other to notice the other person entering, none other than Big Boss himself. Not even Kaz's dark sunglasses can obscure his surprise as he separates from me swiftly, trying to keep from getting tangled with the IV. 

"Boss...!" He begins, not sure how to proceed. It wasn't like Snake didn't already know about the two of us, but we weren't exactly openly intimate around him either. 

"Kaz. It's alright," He says. Kaz eases up in response, as the boss turns his gaze to me.

"Elliot."

"Sir! .... I'd salute, but uh." I gesture to either of my arms.

"No need to. just stopped by to make sure you were alright."

"Well, I haven't seen a nurse yet so I'm not sure what all the details are... I think I'm alright, all things considered, thanks to you, sir. I can't express how grateful I am." He smiles, just barely, in response. 

"Just looking out for my men. You did good, too- you risked yourself to try and help out. It's noble of you."

"Thank you again, sir... It's the least I can do after all." I give a sheepish grin. A compliment from the boss himself- couldn't wait to tell Pat about that. He nods at me, before looking to Kaz again.

"Kaz, I did need to ask you about something, if you'll come with me," He says. "Sure thing, boss." Kaz gives my non injured shoulder a friendly pat. "I'll be around again later. Take it easy, yeah?"

"Of course. I'll see ya." He grins once more before tailing out of the room after Big Boss, someone else saluting the both of them before slipping into my room before the door can even close.

"Lee! You're up!" Pat exclaims, flashing a grin at me. "See you had some important visitors, ain't you lucky?"

"You bet... Man, you're not gonna believe what the boss told me..."

#toxee's writing #self insert #selfship #if this feels rushed it's bc it is since my attention span is. very short #and I like to try and finish stuff like this before I just abandon it forever