#my mom finally got mad at her for implying i’m lazy all the time and told her i’m ‘neurodiverse’ and do things my own way and she didn’t | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stillsearchingforsomething · 4 years

Text

This is our place, we make the rules

May 2016

Karlie loves Sundays. It’s always been one of her favourite days of the week, even when she was a little kid and she knew that school was waiting for her again in the morning. She would always try to savour the last few hours of freedom which when she was younger meant baking with her Mom in the afternoon and then trying to convince her parents to let her and her sisters stay up as late as possible. As an adult it means quiet, lazy days curled up with Taylor, maybe not even venturing outside the confines of the apartment before the demands of another hectic week start again in earnest.

This particular Sunday, she feels like she’s hit the jackpot. She and Taylor are curled up together on the couch, the remnants of the breakfast that they had cooked together that morning left on the coffee table and the Cardinals game playing on the large t.v. screen.

“What do you think about a gas stove top?” Taylor asks looking up at Karlie from her position tucked into the model’s side.

“Hmm?” Karlie hums distractedly, tearing her gaze away from the game. She glances down at Taylor and she can’t help but notice that from this angle she can almost see down the front of the loose button down shirt that Taylor had thrown on this morning. That coupled with the knowledge that all Taylor has on besides is her underwear does little to help her concentrate on Taylor’s question. Karlie darts her eyes up to meet Taylor’s and the smirk she receives in response lets her know that she’s been caught staring.

Karlie clears her throat and looks away, feeling her face flush under Taylor’s gaze.

“For the kitchen?” Taylor presses deciding to take pity on her girl.

“You already have a stove in the kitchen?” Karlie says confused.

“For the new kitchen,” Taylor explains, showing Karlie some pictures on her iPad.

“Why do we need a need a new kitchen? I like your kitchen,” Karlie asks, shifting to get a better look aver Taylor’s shoulder.

“That’s the point, I don’t want it to be my kitchen, I want it to be our kitchen,” Taylor explains, pressing a kiss to the underside of Karlie’s jaw.

“I see,” Karlie says smiling at her girlfriend, filling with warmth at the thought of having a place that is fully theirs. Karlie can’t fight the urge to lean down and steal a short soft kiss so she doesn’t.

“I’ve never lived with anyone before,” Karlie whispers shyly as they break apart.

Taylor tilts her head in thought as she runs her fingers through Karlie’s hair. “Me neither,” Taylor muses before swaying forward and capturing Karlie’s lips in another slow kiss.

Taylor’s smiling when she pulls away and has to blink to clear her head as she melts further into Karlie’s side. “So, gas stove top?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about having you near a naked flame,” Karlie teases, letting out a surprised yelp when Taylor delivers a swift poke to her side.

“That was one time Karlie,” Taylor fires back indignantly. “One little video and suddenly I’m a pyromaniac,” she adds under her breath.

“Whatever you want baby,” Karlie assures leaning over Taylor, plucking her iPad out of her hands. Karlie presses Taylor back into the couch cushions and settles between her thighs to kiss her again, baseball forgotten.

Six months later, after countless Pinterest boards, a lot of antique shopping, and endless bickering over paint swatches, they were finally ready to move back into their renovated apartment. The place was freshly painted and they had hired movers to bring by all their stuff and get the larger furniture set up but they had wanted to unpack the rest of their boxes together to decide where everything should go. They had ordered pizza and were unpacking boxes, listening to music playing from the bluetooth speaker.

Karlie is working on a box of books, stacking them on the shelves by the grand piano when she hears Taylor call out. “What are these?”

Karlie looks up but is momentarily distracted by the sight of Taylor bending over with her head buried in a box. Karlie shakes her head to dispel the flush of heat that burns her cheeks and the tug of arousal that settles low in her belly.

Taylor turns to look at Karlie and finds her staring at her with a familiar look on her face, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Taylor can’t help but smile as Karlie makes her way over to her stumbling over the corner of a box. Taylor feels Karlie press against her back, dropping a kiss to her neck and peering over her shoulder to look into the box.

“My baseballs,” Karlie says excitedly and it’s Taylor’s turn to gulp as she feels Karlie’s breath on her ear.

“You have so many,” Taylor murmurs, still distracted by Karlie who has crouched down to rummage through the baseballs that are all encased in glass cases. Taylor’s no expert when it comes to sports but she figures that these must be pretty special.

“Yeah, I kind of collect them,” Karlie says sheepishly, looking up at Taylor. Taylor rolls her eyes and fights a smile at her dork of girlfriend.

“How did I not know this about you?” Taylor asks holding out her hand to Karlie and pulling her back in to drape her arms around Karlie’s shoulders.

“Well, now that we’re gonna be living together I’m sure you’ll find out all my secrets,” Karlie smiles as she settles her hands low on Taylor’s hips pulling her close.

Taylor smiles an exasperated smile up at Karlie and Karlie can feel her breath catch in her throat at the sight. Karlie feels more than hears the muffled "uh huh" that Taylor mumbles against her lips.

Taylor pulls back and turns in Karlie’s arms to pick up one of the baseballs in its display case.

“That’s my favourite, it’s from the very first Cardinals game my Dad took us to,” Karlie explains resting her chin on Taylor’s shoulder. “I was six and I wanted to catch a ball so bad.”

“And you did?” Taylor asks twisting to look at Karlie.

“No, not exactly, I was so disappointed. But you can buy balls that were used during the game afterwards and my Dad got one for me.”

“Where are we gonna put them?” Taylor asks.

“I was thinking the living room?” Karlie replies, scanning the room for potential spots.

“Yeah we could,” Taylor muses.

“What?” Karlie asks, knowing there’s more that Taylor wants to say.

“It’s just, I’m not sure if they will go with the theme,” Taylor responds shrugging her shoulders.

Karlie nudges her nose against the skin of her neck, breathing her in. “What’s the theme?”

“Sophisticated, lesbian chic,” Taylor deadpans, and she feels Karlie’s snort of laughter against her neck.

“Well, it could definitely help with the lesbian part,” Karlie mutters under her breath.

“Ha ha,” Taylor laughs dryly.

“Also, who put you in charge of decorating this place, you have a birdcage in your living room in Nashville,” Karlie says, ducking out of the way when Taylor rounds on her in outrage.

“Hey, I was young, that was my first apartment,” Taylor defends. “Besides, I don’t remember you complaining when we had sex on the swing.”

“Okay, you got me there,” Karlie admits, smiling at the memory. “Now your favourite decorating technique is to just put an award on any available surface,” Karlie fires back teasingly, dodging the pokes that Taylor is trying to land on her ribs.

“You take that back!” Taylor gasps trying to shove Karlie away but Karlie just tightens her hold on her.

“Oh please, if this place was on fire and you could save me or your Grammy’s, which one would you choose?” Karlie asks staring down at Taylor, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“I can’t believe you would ask me that,” Taylor says indignantly, crossing her arms. “That’s not fair, my Grammy’s couldn’t walk out themselves.”

“I can’t believe you,” Karlie fires back but the gentle squeeze of Karlie’s arms around her waist is enough to assure Taylor that there’s no bite to Karlie words. Karlie finds Taylor too adorable when she gets worked up to be mad at.

“You know that scene in When Harry Met Sally where Carrie Fisher is arguing with Harry’s friend over the wagon wheel coffee table when they move in together?” Taylor asks with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah,” Karlie responds not liking what Taylor is implying.

“I dunno, just something about this made me think of it,” Taylor says shrugging her shoulders innocently.

“Are you comparing my baseballs, one of my most treasured possessions to his stupid wagon wheel coffee table?” Karlie accuses skirting her fingers up Taylor’s sides in an attempt to tickle her into submission.

“Karlie, don’t you dare,” Taylor threatens, trying to squirm out of her hold. Karlie refuses to budge, thoroughly enjoying listening to Taylor’s laughter turning to breathless gasps.

“Do you surrender?” Karlie asks as she continues her assault. Taylor can’t speak so she just shakes her head as she continues to flail at Karlie. Karlie takes pity on her girlfriend when she starts to worry that she can’t breathe.

“I hate you,” Taylor gasps, sagging against Karlie’s chest as she tries to catch her breath.

Karlie doesn’t respond, just hums and sways to the music with Taylor in time with the music.

“I love this song,” Karlie whispers as the opening notes of Africa by Toto fill the room, echoing slightly due to the lack of furniture.

"Dance with me?" Taylor asks, her voice a little too breathless to be blamed on the fact that she has just been tickled to within an inch of her life.

"Always,” Karlie smiles intertwining her fingers with Taylor’s. "What dance are we doing?"

"How about the one where you just hold me and we sway to the music?" Taylor asks smiling up at Karlie, draping her arms around her shoulders and pulling her close.

"My favourite," Karlie mumbles, pressing her lips to Taylor's temple and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend.

Karlie relishes the feel of Taylor pressed against her, and she holds her close. Taylor sings the lyrics softly under her breath and feels Karlie press kisses to her neck, the underside of her jaw and the patch of skin behind her ear.

The song fades out and Taylor nudges her forehead against Karlie’s and leans in to kiss her soft and slow.

“I love you,” Taylor whispers when they break apart. “And your baseballs.”

#kaylor #kaylor fic #rpf #karlie and taylor #tswizzle #karlie freaking kloss #lover inspo

42 notes · View notes

snorlaxlovesme · 5 years

Text

SoMa Week 2019

Day 6: Hands

You know that hectic panic you get in when your mom is gonna be home in 20 minutes and you just remembered she had left a list of chores for you to do before she got back? This fic is like that. Except it's Soul with his arm stuck in the dishwasher.

This is a very serious SoMa Week fic.

“Alexa, record my last will and testament.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know that one.”

Soul looks at the clock. Maka should be home any minute now, he thinks hopelessly, mostly because he had that exact thought 3 hours ago and he was wrong then, so who really knows when she’s going to be back? His neck is absolutely burning from being in this position, and his left arm has taken on a new feeling that’s hovering somewhere between the realm of “stabbing pain” and “complete paralysis.” He’s been sitting on the floor of their kitchen for so long that he’s starting to find shapes in the weird stains on their tile like some kind of fucked up Rorschach test. The one shaped like his mother’s disappointment in him might be blood from Maka’s cut from their last mission. He’s also discovered they have ants.

This all started out with good intentions. Kind of. Okay, no, it started off with Maka leaving him 300 passive aggressive sticky notes (she was the fucking queen of those) saying that if he didn’t start cleaning up their apartment she was going to dump him in the street like the lazy weapon he was and someone else could cook and clean after him. Which is not the Top Ten Most Romantic Ways for the love of your life to tell you to do chores, if you ask Soul. So yeah, maybe he waited until the day before Maka came back from her trip to see her mom to finally start cleaning. And yeah, sure, maybe he was getting kind of aggressive about how he was putting the dishes in the dishwasher. So what?

He’d never admit to Maka that he doesn’t know anything about their new dishwasher, but now he really doesn’t have a choice. When he was maniacally stacking dirty dishes before Maka’s plane landed, he managed to drop one of Maka’s metal chopsticks in between the racks and into the bottom of the dishwasher. He had considered just leaving it down there and hoping for the best, but with the literal signs all over his kitchen calling him LAZY WEAPON, he decided to do the right thing and retrieve it instead of leaving it down there to potentially destroy their new appliance.

Big mistake.

His arm is stuck and it fucking hurts.

He didn’t know the space in between the bottom rack and the water-propeller-thingy was so small, okay? His hand went in just fine! But once he got in up to his shoulder he knew he was fucked. He had the chopstick in hand, but his arm was bent in a position that left no room for wiggling out. And force did not seem like the best option when they just sunk $600 into this stupid fucking appliance. If Soul broke it, he’d never hear the end of it, for sure.

So Soul’s only option? Waiting for Maka to come save him. Pathetic.

He didn’t even have his phone on him when he trapped himself, so he’s been sitting on the kitchen floor for the past three hours (has it been hours? Days? Time has no meaning anymore) wondering if this is how he’s going to die. It’s hard to think of a more undignified way to go at the moment, but he’s sure it could be worse, right? At least his hand isn’t in the toilet.

A tickling on his ankle has him flinching aggressively. An ant has attempted to crawl up his pantleg. Soul pinches it between his fingers on his right hand and flicks it across the kitchen, only to belatedly realize it would have been better to just kill it. Now it has time to come back and tell all its ant friends that the kitchen is open for business and essentially unguarded. What can one boy do when 20% of his body is wedged inside of an over-priced dishwasher?

He tries again to morph his arm into a weapon, like maybe trying it now might be more successful than the 8 other times he’s attempted this solution. But Soul’s arm is bent at an angle that would absolutely destroy the dishwasher if he morphed it into a blade. Maka’s favorite “I closed my book to be here” mug is directly above his hand on the top rack and would for sure be shattered if he transformed. That would even worse than destroying the dishwasher, probably. His arm returns to miserable skin and bone.

“Alexa, play ‘The Funeral’ by Band of Horses’.”

“Here’s a sample of ‘The Funeral’ by Band of Horses. To play the full version, please purchase Amazon Unlimited Music by—”

“Alexa, stop.”

Soul’s pretty sure he’s dying.

The floor-stain shaped like the pain in his left arm has a gathering of ants around it. Maybe it’s spilled soda? Or maybe they’re all congregating to discuss how they plan on eating Soul’s body after he inevitably perishes? He tries to save himself and tamp on them with his foot, but shifting his body just sends shooting pain up his arm. He stills and grits his teeth. He’ll just have to wait for Death to take him.

Minutes later, hours later, years later, he hears the clicking of the lock to their front door, and Maka walks in with two large duffel bags in hand and her cell phone wedged between her shoulder and ear.

“Yeah, Mama, I made it home safely, I’m just gonna—Soul?”

He looks up at her with sad, sad eyes.

Maka gingerly sets down her bags. “Mama, I’m gonna have to call you back. Okay. Yeah. Bye.”

“Help,” he whines pathetically. No traces of coolness to be found in a situation like this.

She kneels next to where he lays, slouched on the tile. “What happened here?”

“I found out why I never do chores.”

She makes a face at him. “If you did chores more often, maybe you’d hurt yourself less. Practice makes perfect, you know.” She looks at his stuck arm with a morbid kind of wonder. “Wow, you’re really stuck in there. How long have you been sitting like this?”

“You were supposed to be here hours ago” is Soul’s only response, because fuck if he knows how long it’s been.

She runs her fingers through his messy hair. “Sorry, sorry, my layover got delayed and things got all hectic. I guess this explains why you weren’t answering your phone, too. Does it hurt?”

“Fuck yes. Can you get me out? Please?”

She gives him a little kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, let’s see here.” She moves him over a tad so she can see better (“sorry, sorry!” she shrieks as he groans) and discovers that not only is he mega-stuck, but there doesn’t seem to be a sensible way to bend his arm to free him.

“Okay then, we’ll just do this,” she says, and in one Superman-like motion she’s grabbing the bottom rack of dishes and straight-up ripping it off the track so Soul can pull his arm free. He about cries in relief, then from pain when finally puts his arm into a position that lets the blood flow back into it. His shoulder is so fucking stiff.

Maka sets the mangled rack onto their kitchen floor, apparently not giving a damn when the dishes still inside it clank together in a dangerously-close-to-shattering cacophony. She sits down beside him, digs her fingers into the crook of his neck, and starts massaging.

“I can’t believe you broke the dishwasher to get me out,” Soul says, rolling his eyes back a little because her hands feel so fucking good on his sore neck and shoulder.

“Well, I wasn’t just going to leave you stuck in there,” Maka says. “Plus, it’s under warrantee, so we can just get the people from the department store to come back and fix it in a few days.”

“WHAT?” Soul roars so loud that Maka jumps a little bit. “Are you saying that I just 127 Hours-ed myself for NOTHING because I could have just BROKEN IT TO BEGIN WITH??”

“Hey, don’t yell at me, Soul, just because you don’t listen when the people who install our appliances tell us about what we’re paying for!”

“I was stuck there for hours because I thought you’d be mad if I broke it!”

“When on earth did I imply during our five-year partnership that I liked a dishwasher more than I liked you in one piece?”

When she puts it like that, he does sound a little stupid. Or maybe she sounds a little sweet. Or maybe being trapped inside a dishwasher for half a day is just distorting his view of reality. He needs to get up off the floor, like now.

He stands up, popping his spine in like nine different places and offers her his hand to help her up too. When he reaches down, the metal chopstick that has been trapped in his raccoon-like grip finally slips between his fingers.

It falls on the floor and bounces before rolling away, and Maka scoots to go retrieve it.

“Is this what you were trying to grab when you got stuck?” she asks. “These don’t even go in the dishwasher, Soul. You handwash them.”

Soul swears his vision whites out for a moment. He can’t even dignify that statement with a response because he’ll probably live to regret whatever comes out of his mouth next. Besides, all’s well that ends well, right? He got the chopstick, he didn’t technically break the dishwasher, and his meister is home and happy. So it was all worth it in the end, right?

Maka finally slaps her hand on the runaway chopstick, shouting a dorky little “a-ha!” Her hand lands near a floor-spot that looks like a wonky heart.

Soul sighs. He’d probably do it again, for her, if it came down to it. He squats down beside her and plants a kiss on her unsuspecting cheek.

“Missed you while you were gone,” he tells her, because it’s worth saying.

She smiles warmly at him and leans in to give him a proper kiss. She doesn’t make it all the way there, because suddenly she’s jumping a foot in the air with a yelp, coming close to headbutting him in the nose. Maka looks down at where her hand rests on the floor, where a small black insect is skittering across her knuckle. Soul watches in horror as her eyes zero in on 10 of its closest friends a few feet away on the floor.

There’s the briefest moment of silence as she ponders what she’s looking at. The calm before the storm. Then:

“Are those ANTS?”

She whips around to face him, but Soul’s already gone. He can still hear her shouting from down the hall. “Soul, I told you to MOP while I was gone!!”

His shoulder twinges painfully as he slams the door shut to his room. He thinks he’ll just live with the sticky notes for this one.

#soma week 2019 #soma week #soma #soul x maka #soul eater evans #maka albarn #soul eater #se fic #*throws garbage into the wind* i havent posted writing in ages so LETS START WITH THIS #my writing

61 notes · View notes

rain-penguin · 7 years

Photo

Oh boy I finally found the time to update my oc ref for sploon two

Aika (19):

She is your standard fangirl who reads fanfics and ships her friends. Reink’s her younger brother. Has a bubbly personality. She is single but likes people with anyone with purple ink and green eyes.

She was born with her front long tentacles in the back and her small back tentacles in the front and her irises are smushed so it makes it harder to see. These differences caused her be often become the victim of bullying and so she is seen as an outcast unless Reink can convince them otherwise. As a result of her crushingly low self esteem, she’s resulted to wearing color contacts which has inevitably melted into her eyes from prolonged wear, thus making her blind.

Daisuke:

He is the dead one that should of lived longer.

The deceased father of Reink and Aika. Currently drawn as himself when he was 19, he was a captive to the octolings during the Great Turf Wars and died young from poison testing (I want to say mid thirties-ish?). Due to his rather small stature, he was ridiculed and seen as a dispensable compared to others his age. Due to that, he sees himself as a sort of sacrifice for the greater good.

his life was a mess

Reink (say it like Reign) (17):

He’s the snarky lazy one. Aika’s his older sister. Also, he is Agent 4 and boyfriends with Prussian.

Like Aika, his tentacles are weird too, both his long tentacles grow from one side and are different lengths. This doesn’t look as weird his sister’s deformations so people don’t bother him about it very much. Despite this, due to the pestering of his sister, his self esteem has degraded to nothing. Instead of being suicidal and depressed from his low self esteem, he has devoted his life to others as he views his death will only hurt those around him. Thus now he lives off of the livelihood of others. If all of the people close to him decide to leave, he’ll shrug his shoulders and die without a second thought.

Unfortunately, he meets the same fate as his father; captured by octolings. Ultimately saved, he now faces regular angsty teen problems.

Prussian (19):

He is the deceiving one. Horizon is his older sister. Also, completely oblivious to what’s going on. He is boyfriends with Reink.

He and his sister were born in a well off family, both parents being in the medical field and wishing their children to follow suit. Horizon being the kickass she is rejected this and went to live life on the edge. With Horizon gone, Prussian’s parents shifted their expectations to Prussian and hammered him to become the doctor he never wished to be. Realizing his parents were using him only to fulfill their own desires, he figured why not do the same with his peers as he befriends inklings he thinks are skilled at turf wars to form teams and to climb the ranks.

Alex (20):

She’s an octoling soldier is disguise. Well, use to be. Now that Marina’s around she can go uncovered and live a normal life with inklings. Most everyone mistook her as a guy during her time disguised. Once she revealed herself as an octoling it became pretty apparent she wasn’t one. Has a rather quiet personality. She is girlfriends with Pandora.

Coming from a lower walk of life than Pandora, Alex only started to live her life after being picked up from the gutters. Kouta basically raised her and introduced her to Pandora. Due to Pandora being born as an elite, the only way Alex could be acceptably together with her was if she were to raise her ranks through her status as a soldier. After much hard work, she finally was able to be a part of the elite. However, her first mission was to disguise herself as an inkling in Inkopolis, obviously apart from her love. Her efforts were for nothing.

However, now that octolings are being accepted into inkling society, Pandora has moved in with her and they both live happily together.

Pandora (21):

She is the precious octoling engineer. Despite being how elite and smart as she is, her fellow octarians don’t take her seriously because she’s “Too cute” for the job. She doesn’t like to fight but will when she has to fill in for someone. Her personality is cute in every which way. She is girlfriends with Alex.

Despite seeming to be the successor to Kouta’s intelligence, her works as an engineer were highly disregarded due to her being female. It is only when Kouta tells her drunkenly to “use wot she got to do wot she got too do” that she started to woo the higher-ups to get them to pay attention to her and her work. Being apart from Alex pains her and she eventually runs away to Inkopolis after being harassed by her boss.

Es (19):

He is the escaping hacker. He always carries his laptop which he’d let no one see the screen of. In between matches he would type away on it, sometimes murmuring puns under his breath and the common “Hacker voice- I’m in.” Single and questionably straight; he’s open for options.

He outrightly refused to tell anyone his real name and insisted everyone refer to him as “Es.” He made it apparent to all around him that he was a “very busy man” and “really shouldn’t be wasting his time on some silly game of turf wars.” He always wore clothes that were out of style or did not match. A prime example of this was the combination of his carnivore tee with a pair of socks and sandals.

Horizon (24):

She is the coolest kid on the block. She is Agent 3. She is the ultimate “Senpai,” not that Reink cares. Single and straight.

Running away from her well off family to pursue her own interests, Horizon has burdened her brother with the weight and pressure of their parents. However, Prussian does not let her know that and they still are on pretty good terms. Being the less intelligent of the siblings, she quickly ran into financial problems and delved into the shady world of drugs and alcohol. It was only when she was asked to be agent 3 that she pulled herself up from her bootstraps and made a new image of herself. She is now clean and detests her actions in the past.

Kouta (old as balls):

He is the lead biologist octoling. He slacks off on his job, but he’s good at what he does so no one can really fire him. He’s always high on something. His traumatic experiences during the Great Turf Wars lead him to make Dæmon and later abandon him. He is good friends with Pandora. It’s hard to tell what kind of person he really is because he is almost always drunk and/or high. He is single, but cannot let go of his past feelings.

he is a mess

Curiosity (13):

She is, as her name implies, curious. Also the younger sister of Pandora.

Born just as Pandora began making a mark as the genius engineer she is, her parents separated both of them as they found her to distract Pandora from her work and studies. However, they still meet and write to each other in secret. Her left hand was made by Pandora as a present to her.

People rumor that she has killed a cat before just because she was curious to see what would happen.

Dæmon:

He’s the mom of the whole bunch. Piman, who he almost killed, is his precious friend because others are too scared to talk to the over-2-meter-tall giant that he is. He is made by Kouta and claims to remember nothing from his past. Despite his looks, he is rather friendly unless you make him mad. Single, but isn’t looking for love at the moment.

he is also a mess

Piman (18):

They’re the Shinji of my squid ocs. They’re lost and doesn’t know what to do with life. Lucky for them Dæmon, who almost accidentally killed him, looks out for them and their mental health now. Has a shy and finicky personality. Single, but not looking for love at the moment.

Their past is… complicated (; ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) But one thing’s for sure, they’re in hiding.

#splatoon #inkling #octoling #ocs #yO LOOK AT ALL MY CHARACTERS #AREN"T THEY ALL LITTLE SHITS???#I THINK SO

146 notes · View notes

believe-that-you-can-my-friend · 7 years

Note

There's a lipstick stain on your shirt. Jealous and fierce Betty all the way

I’m all for that Betty, nonnie! Hope you like this!

47. “There’s a lipstick stain on your shirt.”

“Oh, the remorseful husbandreturns.” Betty murmured with venom, violently changing the channel on the flatscreen across her that she was far from watching. She could hear the door oftheir apartment click closed and then the casual muffling sound of coat andshoes being taken off before his lazy footsteps brought him to the dimly litliving room she was being suffocated in and internally screaming for an hournow.

“Hey, babe.” His easy-goingsmile found his lips at the sight of his beautiful wife, lounging in a looset-shirt of his and a pair of tight yoga pants, the baby monitor on the sidetable on her right emitting the sounds of their son peacefully dreaming. “You’restill up? I thought you’d have gone to bed by now.” He popped open the topbuttons of his dark blue shirt and plopped next to her, going in for a kiss onlyfor him to come across thin air, as she turned her face away.

“Alright, is this about me nottaking out the trash this morning?” Jughead sighed, already aware of theirongoing argument about how easily forgetful he was of that particular householdchore. “I know you keep telling me every time and every time I forget butplease is this such a big reason for us to go to bed angry at each other?” hetried to negotiate seeing as she kept staring at the muted TV with no desire intalking to him anytime soon.

“Betts, come on.” He urged herto communicate with him, like they always did with each other, dropping a light kiss on the shoulder the loose hem of his t-shirt left bare, only for her to squirm awayfrom his touch and him to frown. “Is that not it? Am I forgetting something else?”he tried to work his mind around any other possible thing he might have donewrong but he found himself at a dead-end, clueless seeking her feminineassistance.

“What you keep forgetting isthat I’m your wife.” She finally spoke slowly and in barely a whisper, heranger and stubborn tears threatening to come to surface.

“What?” Jughead spat in totalconfusion, bouncing his head back to take a better look at her profile.

“Where have you been all daytoday, Jughead?” she turned to face him for the first time, eyes stone coldupon his oblivious and worried ones.

He cleared his throat. “I hada meeting with Beck that got dragged a little out of our usual time schedule; Itexted you earlier to let you know.” He informedher casually his plans with his manager that she was already aware of, a little morecasually and aloof than necessary, and Betty scoffed with a shake of her head.

“You do know that you can’tlie to me, don’t you?” she curled her arms defensively over her chest, eyesturning dark green with fury.

“I clearly don’t have a cluewhat you’re implying right now.” He maneuvered himself out of the situationcleverly, dropping back on the couch to focus on the TV like she was doingminutes before.

“So then I’ll stop implyingand straight up ask you.” She decided to cut in to the chase, her heartdrumming violently against her ribcage. “Who is she, Jughead?” she threw in themillion dollar question.

“Who is who?” he blurted in aheartbeat, eyebrows knitting in complete confusion right now.

“The whore that left this on your shirt.” Her voice raised anoctave angrily, snatching one of his plaid shirts from the cushions behind her and showing him the hint of burgundylipstick on the lapel before throwing it to his face with venom. “Care toexplain to me why there’s a lipstickstain on your shirt?”

“Betty” he hesitated,examining the faint shade of color on one of his shirts with bewildered eyes. “Idon’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you don’t know?” shebabbled in mockery, jumping up to her feet. “Let me enlighten you then. This whole week you come and golike you’re a visitor in this house!” she accused towering over his slouchingposture on the couch. “You’re gone all day, you come home late, you shower… Andthen this!” she grabbed the shirt from his lap, waving it around like a redflag between them. “Do you think I’m blind? Or this stupid, not to understandthat something is going on with you?” her voice gained a high-pitched tone offrustration, eyes narrowing challenging for an answer.

“You’re overreacting.” Was all thatJughead said, standing up from the couch to walk away.

“Oh, don’t you dare!” shescoffed while following quickly behind him, his large strides equivalent ofmultiple of her running steps. “Tell me who she is!” Betty demanded in a hushedyell. “Is she that slutty editor, Janet Marrow, or-or that fake blondesecretary, what’s her name, oh, Macy? Macy!”she laughed with no humor at all at the mention of the young assistant, Betty fumingand still following her calm husband down the hall and to their bedroom. “Sheis always rubbing up against you, don’t even try to deny it! Tell me her name,Jughead, or help me God!” some stubborn tears fell silently down her cheeks asshe grabbed him by the material of his shirt over his shoulder, twisting it in herfist and succeeding in making him stop pacing and turn around to face her.

“There isn’t a name, there is noone, I can promise you this.” Jughead stated with all honesty, blue eyespleading for her to believe him.

“Like you promised that I’mthe only woman you’ll ever love?” she spat to his face. “What changed, huh? Isit because I became the mother of your child now? What, I lost my value as awoman?” she was whisper-shouting now, not to disturb the peaceful baby in thenext room, but feeling her anger boiling at the apathetic attitude of herhusband. “Because I’m still beating my ass every day to lose that damn pregnancyweight or because I lounge in this apartment all day in milk stained sweatpantsand messy hair? Tell me a reason why you are not here anymore!” she whinedheartbreakingly and Jughead dropped his head to the ground, nodding vigorouslya couple of times, before doing an one-eighty and going to thevery end of their walk in closet, bringing back a small box. He opened it upand handled her an opened small notepad that held the date of her birthday ontop and then a list of plans under it.

“For this.” He sigheddefeated, rubbing the back of his head before focusing back on her. “Polly and I are planning a surprise birthday party for you. Webooked your favorite restaurant and all those days we were planning how to flyeveryone to Boston without you knowing; her with Ethan and the twins, your mom, my dad, Veronica, Archie,Kevin and everyone else from Riverdale because you miss them all terribly andnow with little bug we wouldn’t be able to fly there.” Her heart broke at therevelation, lips opening in surprise at the change of events, as she read hiswords on paper along with reservation dates and menu instructions. “And then Ihad to organize these.” he gave her a travel leaflet, again with a paper filledwith plans and flight times and dates stashed inside it. “A week-long trip in Balibecause you love warm, sunny places and we both, and especially you, deserve all therest in the world after all those months with the baby.” New tears were nowstreaming down her face, Betty feeling awful at how unfair she had been towardshim, when all he did was continuing to be an amazing partner for her.

“As for the stain, I assumethat’s left by Jellybean when I went to pick her up from the airport two daysago, right after I stopped by the jewelry shop to confirm that my order wasready to be picked up in a week.” His eyes softened against her own now softfeatures, taking every plan-containing paper from her hands and dropping them to their masterbed, before refocusing on her. “She came to help with the preparations and then to stay with little bug when we leave for our trip and you know how she sports thosefreaky dark lipsticks all the time, so I believe the smudged stain came fromwhen she hugged me in full force upon running off the arrivals like a madwoman.” He laughed slightly at that, before turning serious again. “I can callPolly or Jellybean to confirm all of these right now, or if you think they wouldbe lying on my behalf, you can call the restaurant yourself or I can drop bythe travel agency tomorrow and see if I can get our tickets earlier, I don’tknow…”He tried to list all the possible solutions for her to believe him with asigh. “I just want you to know that—” Betty cut him off, fingers going to hischapped lips.

“You love me.” She whisperedthrough her silent tears, green eyes turning up to look at him in remorse.

“Of course I do, you dork.” Hesmirked adorably down at her, enveloping her inside his arms.

“Even when I become a psychoticbitch still from all the bumped up hormones?” she pouted in all cuteness, hiccuppinga little around the words.

“Then, even more so.” He toldher truthfully bopping his nose against hers. “Even though we both know that’snot the hormones talking; you’re being a spitfire like always.” He reminded herwith clever raised eyebrows, making her fake a groan in defeat.

“I was just scared that youwere going to leave me.” She admitted in a small girly voice, letting herconcerns flow out of her now burden-free chest.

“How can I possibly leave thesource of my breathing?” Jughead stated beautifully in a heartbeat. “Seriously,Betts, after all those years, do you really think that I would ever cheat on you?” he pulled back alittle to look at her, eyes turning a tad sad at the thought of her not trustinghim or his genuine and intense feelings completely.

Betty shook her head to easehis mind. “I just… I mean I still look like a whale on steroids, I wouldn’t blame youfor losing your interest.” She shrugged with a perpetual pout on her wet lips,buttoning and unbuttoning a button of his shirt, not daring to look him in theeye.

“What are you talking about?You look more breathtaking than ever, babe.” He rushed to validate her worth asa human being and as an amazing woman. “And I believe you know what you’redoing to me every time my eyes linger a little longer on that sinfully sexybody of yours.” His voice dropped an octave and became huskier, effectively sendingshivers down her spine as he whispered next to her ear and dropped a simplekiss against her pulse point, though enough to make her heart hummer inside herchest.

“However, you being jealous of me, is still quite entertaining to watch.” he teased her with a cocky smirk and earned a smack against his chest and a “watch it, mister” look under her eyelashes, both of them landing in a fit of giggles.

“I really don’t deserve you.And all those things you organized, Juggie, you shouldn’t have.” She ran herhands up his arms and rested them behind his neck, lifting herself on her tiptoes torest her forehead against his in affection.

“Oh, of course I did.” He whispered,pecking her lips once. “Anything for the woman of my life.” He stated with somuch love and devotion in his eyes that Betty swore he fell in love with himall over again in that moment. “Just please, try to act surprised on the actualday, okay? Polly and I had a bet on whether or not I’ll crack and spilleverything to you and I really don’t wanna face the life-long mockery of yoursister.” He admitted in all seriousness and Betty laughed, head thrown back injoy, before promising him that and many more inside the heated kisses thatfollowed.

2k followers little prompts

#bughead #jetty #bughead fanfiction #bughead prompts #one sentence prompt #2k followers #Anonymous #bughead fic #otp:sundaes & plaids #mywriting

206 notes · View notes

cosmosogler · 7 years

Text

i got four bottle caps today. two from fishing, one from collecting shards in the “fun adventure island”, and one when i won the lottery. i should probably go back to trying for gold bottle caps now that i’ve got a good fishing system in place for the silver ones.

that’s not really what i’m gonna talk about too much though.

i woke up before my alarm again, but still put my alarm on snooze when it did finally go off. i did not want to get out of bed at all.

this morning i kinda goofed off and grabbed some of the leftover rice for a quick lunch before i left for therapy. i could only eat like two-thirds of it though, it made me really sick. the only difference between this rice and the rice i had a few days ago was the enchilada sauce. but the bean burrito adventure with enchilada sauce didn’t make me sick before the first leftover meal.

i mostly spent my 45 minutes with the therapist complaining about my parents and worrying about my grad school applications. i gotta email florida back about the enrollment deadline... i’ll do that right after i call uic in the morning. they were 10 minutes closed when i went to call them. just missed.

oh yeah, and she can’t see me next week. so it’ll be two weeks before i see her again. for 45 minutes.

i dunno, that extra 15 minutes i usually get with other therapists makes a big difference... i feel like i don’t have much time to settle in and figure out what’s on my mind. i mean, i have the topics i want to bring up going in, but it takes a bit of meandering for me to really find something i can actually work on that week.

i picked up my meds on the way home and then spent the afternoon hanging out with eve, fishing for bottle caps, watching some tv show reviews and adding them to my watch list, and making myself sick with a small snack. it was a frozen cheese pizza. i put it in the oven and left it in longer than the directions said and it was still cold in one spot, which was frustrating.

when mom came home she asked to see my acceptance letter from florida and the paperwork i gotta send in by monday. she said things like “why aren’t you excited” and “you don’t seem excited” and “i just thought you would be happy that you got into one of your top choices” and “you should be more excited” and it made me kinda mad, so i acted less excited and even more vague and tight-lipped about it.

i watched the wind blow the leaves in the tree in our backyard while mom talked to herself about the logistics of coming to visit. it was nice out, but i didn’t want to go outside. i ended up not taking wiley for a walk today. i wanted to give my bug bites a little time to heal, and also i lost track of time and forgot. i’ll take him for a long walk with asher tomorrow maybe.

oh yeah, she told me about her boss’ daughter’s experience with mental health hospitals. she went to a fancy one down south that apparently cost “90,000 dollars.” she said that the daughter’s diagnosis was that she was “addicted to pain” and “could not be happy unless there was something wrong with her” and she had to have a whole bunch of surgeries before she came home, and also had to stop taking her meds. i kind of squinted at mom, trying to figure out what she was implying. well, that’s a lie. i knew what she was implying. i was trying to figure out if she was doing that on purpose.

i told her about the place i found that i liked and was gonna set up an appointment with before my sister and i leave for the concert next thursday.

quick aside - my sister loves k pop and we have tickets for the bts concert. it is an 8 hour drive away. i spent some time with my therapist trying to figure out what i was gonna do about my meds if the concerts went on late into the night.

anyway, mom decided it was necessary to tell me multiple times throughout the day that my aunt and her sister were both familiar with the mental health facility i was looking at. i couldn’t figure out why, so i ignored it, and then when she came home from work she asked if i had called and asked my aunt about the facility.

man, i don’t tell no one in my family about how i’m doing except sometimes gramma. i’m pretty sure they can tell there’s something wrong with me, but i don’t talk about it with them and they don’t generally ask other than a casual “how are you today?” which is our usual excuse to launch into long stories about whatever financial garbage we’re dealing with or if something has changed about our summer plans.

you know, stuff that’s more or less relevant to the whole family.

oh yeah, i got super mad in therapy today. not with the therapist. i was telling her about my hospital stays and how mom always talks over me. when i was in the hospital back in january after dad brought me home mom was telling the doctors about how i felt. and they were deferring to her when asking questions about my health! and i asked them to put the iv in my left arm instead of my right, so i could use my right arm, and they totally ignored me. i had to do everything left handed. like paperwork.

and the time after my heart surgery when a radio station mom liked was doing a fundraiser at the children’s hospital. we went to go on air and mom told everyone about how my whole life no one ever knew anything was wrong and it was so scary and she started crying and talking about being a parent.

i knew something was wrong. i started figuring it out around the time i started wanting to die in christian school. nobody had listened to me. they’d just called me lazy or said i had no pain tolerance. and even after the doctors said, you know, i have a huge heart problem and i am in like a lot of pain whenever i exert myself, i would ask to use a wheelchair at the mall or whatever and mom would say “you don’t really need that. everyone’s going to stare at you.”

so, like, my problem turned into mom’s sob story about how scary it is to have something wrong with your child. the dj never asked me one question about it. i just stared at the two of them sitting on the bench while mom cried into the microphone. i was 11. i knew how to talk.

after that when i would bring up therapy, like, after i turned 18, mom would jump to either i’m seeing a therapist because “you have ptsd from your heart surgery” or “you have autism.” i was talking to a therapist about my... depression and nightmares... but you know, whatever floats your boat mom. tell me more about how i’m addicted to melatonin and my medications turn me into “not yourself.”

man i’ve complained about this like five times and i’m still salty and don’t know what to do about it.

the one useful thing mom told me is that she looked into why doogles is eating poop. apparently pack animals do that to hide their pack’s tracks from other predators when a member of the family is sick, so they don’t get picked off by stronger animals. it is a reasonable fear, considering the coyotes that wander around in the ranch land behind our backyard. they are technically capable of jumping the fence, though i don’t think they would do it while our dogs were actually in the yard.

it’s because she knows eve is not doing well, probably because of the tumor. she tries to cover her own “tracks” too. when dad caught her at it tonight he got super mad and yelled at her. i told him there was a reason and he said he didn’t care. i set my jaw and followed him inside.

i had some stuffed mushrooms as a snack. i feel... ok, i guess. and i had plain pasta for dinner. i couldn’t finish the little bowl and i felt kinda junky but not too nauseous.

i think i lost track of time and started writing late, because it’s just past 12:40. i know i didn’t start until a few minutes after 12 since i was downstairs eating... i don’t like how easy it is to slip from my schedule. and no matter how early i get to bed i can’t seem to get up before 10. i go to bed at 1, can’t get up before 10. i go to bed close to 12, still get up at 10. i want to have a little more time in the mornings to maybe get stuff done, and a little more time between my morning and lunch medication doses, but that doesn’t seem like it’ll happen unless i can trick myself into getting up at 9 or 9:30.

ah, i forgot to draw today. that’s what it was. i don’t have too much to do tomorrow, just the phone call... and then i’m hanging out with asher in the afternoon. i will put my sketchbook back on my desk so i will see it when i get bored and open up youtube.

there was something else i wanted to talk about, but i think it was kind of a meta anecdote about how fleeting the little moments are, and how difficult they are to capture and write down. every now and then i’ll stop and think, and i’ll want to write the thought down here that evening, and i’ll have totally forgotten what it was by the time i sit down to write. sometimes i’ll send a message about it to asher and then write down what i texted basically word for word, but i don’t like to bother him constantly.

like, my life in my writing seems to take place in some nebulous black text in white space, but it doesn’t quite... give you the experience i was having, the tile on my feet, the bug bites, diogi snoring behind mom’s chair, the darkness of the house’s downstairs and how the windows are always shuttered, the wind chimes, the specific hue of the sky that always makes me think of my dreams and i can’t figure out why because the sky is usually the wrong color in my dreams. the million side programs running in my head while i try to have a conversation and i end up just saying nothing because why bother, or worse, i have something to say and just freeze up or stutter. and then mom sighs, because of course, and of course i’m just too stupid to talk coherently. one of my feet is super sore on the bottom every time i try to walk barefoot. my stomach is always uncomfortable and i almost always am aware of it. the split skin on my finger’s joint stings all the time.

there’s just so much stuff that i plain forget to talk about, and my posts ARE ALREADY SO LONG! there is too much that happens in one day to talk about all of it! even when nothing happens!!!

it’s 1 now. i should try to sleep. i’m real thirsty, but if i drink water now i’m gonna have to get up in a half hour.

2 notes · View notes

writetoremainsilent · 5 years

Text

4/2/19 a busy day of absolutely nothing

Today, I had my three other classes.

Coffee Lab: Very chill. Started at 8 am. I had a very bad stomachache in the morning, but the coffee that we got to sample woke me up and made me feel a lot better.

Tennis: Turns out, I have a very good friend in my tennis class this quarter. This should be fun. It rained, so we got out early.

Dinosaurs: Pretty neat, seems a little tough though. Definitely expecting much from us.

In the meanwhile, we weighed Allen’s idea of visiting Nic this weekend, even though he goes to a college very far away from us. We decided not to.

I also hung out with said tennis friend for a bit. It was fun.

I got super invested in 1984. I’ve doubled my page placement, and it feels like it’s building up to some pretty exciting stuff. Hana, you were totally right when you said it picks up.

A weird thing happened today, as I got off the bus I take home.

After getting off the bus, I passed the convenience store that exists between the bus stop and my apartment. And I’m hurrying, because it’s raining. And I come across this little girl, who’s plunging this sheet of paper into a puddle. She’s really submerging it, like, it almost looked like torture. As I passed her, I saw that the sheet was some child coloring sheet thing designed by the convenience store for some coloring contest for kids to participate in. The girl took the paper out of the puddle and put it on the wet ground to dry out. It made me crack up. She got so much joy out of doing something completely contrary to what the paper wanted her to do. It made me mad.

On a related note, there was no parent to be found. I watched this little girl trot around in a plaza and briefly considered asking her where her mom was. I didn’t, though, because I didn’t wanna seem like a creep. Well, that was my justification. But honestly, I think I just didn’t care.

Yeah. After that, I watched some Domestic Girlfriend with Wally (and wow that show is really trashy).

I wanted to read more 1984, but I was sleepy. So I took a nap.

And I had a very not great dream.

I was driving home from college and picking up various things from my friends’ houses. I was at Tye’s house and picked up a beanbag chair and Wally was there and I said, ‘wow, this would’ve been nice for Allen at our apartment.’ Wally agreed.

As I was driving home from Tye’s house by myself (weirdly, Tye’s house had taken the exact geographic location of Nic’s house), I saw some passerby, and they shouted at me to lower my window only to tell me that my family was awful and my dad was an awful person. I ignored them and drove home.

After getting home, I parked a little further out because there was no parking, as there seemed to be some kind of block party thing going on. So I parked in front of a house further away, and began hauling things into my house. When I opened my trunk up, some more passerby for some block party walked by and informed me that my father was a terrible person, and had screwed people over. I ignored them and started bringing things in. I ran into my neighbors along the way, and their car was halfway stuck into the garage door, implying they had driven clean into it without opening the door. They were on the phone, presumably for assistance. Funnily enough, I ignored them too.

I brought my things home and greeted my family. I went back to my car and the process repeated: passerby tell me that my father/my family is awful, I ignore them; I pass my neighbors and ignore them; I bring things into my house and am ignored by my family.

Finally, I’m left with only two things in the trunk. My parents inform me that they’re heading out, and leave. My brother soon follows. I feel weird because I’ve left my trunk open and two things are still there, after all, so I rush out after they leave and yup, they’ve been stolen. But the house I’m parked in front of has their front door open, so I try my luck and rush in. I yell, a little too aggressively, inside and ask if they took my stuff.

Immediately I regret this. I dunno why, I just can feel that I did the wrong thing.

So I slowly back out, hoping no one was around to hear me. I walk away, cautiously, and immediately feel like something ice cold pierced through my shoulder. I whirl around, and it’s the residents of the house.

They’ve shot me.

I choke and sob and try getting away, but get shot again. And suddenly, these guys are feeding me images of how I truly am part of an awful family. In my head, I’m seeing childish, crayola-drawn images of me and my life. (This is weird, considering the girl I saw today at the convenience store). There’s a picture of me crying after my parents have a fight. There’s a picture of me whining on my blog, particularly childishly drawn, and saying Blah Blah Blah Blah. There’s pictures of me being a jerk to people I know and getting away with it. There’s more pictures, but I’m being shot the whole time, so it’s hard to focus. But I’m feeling helpless. Not only am I being shot (ow), but it’s made apparent to me how utterly useless my life has been. And I’m shot in the legs and the arms and everywhere, and I’m like...gonna die. But I don’t want to. So I wake up.

That dream shook me up. It single-handedly made me realize that I consider myself of almost no worth right now, at least subconsciously. It was pretty jarring.

Anyway, after that, I went grocery shopping with Wally, and there were Starbucks samples of banana walnut bread. So he got a lot, because he loves it.

We went home, and Allen was back. We all started making dinner, and watched Wally play LA Noire.

I was feeling really lazy after dinner, so I decided to go get some cardio in on one of the exercise bikes in my apartment gym. It was tough.

After the grueling not-exercise, I got back, watched more LA Noire, then played some Melee with Wally, and now here I am.

I feel pretty bad about the dream I had. I’m gonna ignore the things my subconscious may or may not be trying to tell me, just like I ignored all those folks in my dream.

Maybe I should call my parents.

0 notes