my wife just pointed out that Rick O’Connell from The Mummy and Eliot Spencer from Leverage would be the ultimate mom friends together and now I want a movie of this, the two of them long-sufferingly trying to prevent their family/friends with no self-preservation instincts from getting themselves killed
I don’t think my parents ever loved each other. My mom was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the ends of the cul-de-sac… and started their nuclear family. Screw that.
You watched with a knowing smile on your lips as Lukas trudged towards you, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. The composed lieutenant had no trouble expressing displeasure when a certain green-haired commander was involved.
“He’s gone and done it again, hasn’t he?”
“It would seem he’s run off to chase another band of brigands. I don’t know how many times I said ‘Alm, no’ to him, today.”
“I’ll bet it wasn’t half as much as me.” You mused, patting his shoulder in comfort. Lukas sighed, clearly frustrated with the boy’s enthusiastic desire to chase down any and every bad guy. Admirable as it was, you both knew it was a trend that couldn’t continue.
AN: Ok so this is my first fic and i’m super nervous to post this. I just wanna thank @ninja-stiles for helping keep me motivated and helping edit.
Best friends are supposed to be with you no matter what, they’re supposed to be there for you through everything, always be happy for you and support you.
Dylan was exactly that. We have been friends since we were little, neither of us can actually remember a time when we didn’t know each other, but our moms tell us we’ve been friends since the womb. Dylan has been there for me through everything crappy that life has decided to throw my way, and I have done the same for him. But not once did I ever think that being happy for him would kill me inside.
[ELIAS: What’s that, bro? What are you doing? YOUSEF: Throw it to me, throw it to me, throw it to me!] SANA: Hello. MOM: Hi, honey. [The guys talking over each other] SANA: Where’s dad? MOM: At La Mocca. MUTASIM: Let’s kick the ball, play with our feet. MOM: There were a lot of people asking for you at the Friday prayer. SANA: Oh yeah, uh, I was supposed to go, but I couldn’t make it. MOM: No. But it’s been a while? SANA: It’s not been that long. Why don’t you ever say that to Elias? He’s never at Friday prayers. MOM: No, well… Elias is just as ditzy as your father. While the two of us, we’re more focused. Don’t you agree? SANA: I’ll be there next Friday. MOM: We’re going to Mahmoud’s wedding next Friday. Do you wanna come? SANA: No, thank you. I think I’ll pass. MOM: So what did you do yesterday? SANA: Yesterday? MOM: Mhmm. SANA: I just hung out with Noora and Eva and them. But do you need any help cooking? MOM: You want to help me cook? SANA: No, not really. MOM: No, not really? Honestly, what are you gonna do when you get married? Are you going to let your children starve? SANA: No. My husband is gonna cook. MOM: Your husband is gonna cook. Huh. Insha’allah. MOM: (answers phone) Hello? Hi. [Switches the radio from the news to music] YOUSEF: Hi. SANA: Hi! YOUSEF: I’m just getting something to drink. [Switches the channel on the radio again] YOUSEF: Do you need any help? SANA: Huh? No. YOUSEF: Listen.. I don’t want to be rude, but you’re doing it all wrong. Like.. Totally wrong. SANA: Alright? YOUSEF: Should I show you? SANA: Okay.. YOUSEF: You have to drag it towards yourself, not push it away, okay? Because then you don’t have control over the carrot. Drag it towards yourself. Then you turn it over and do the other side.
I got thinking yesterday, pondering on the question “what makes a good relationship?” And sure, there’s the fluff, the communication and the ability to compromise, all that good stuff. But being able to be silly with your partner is also such an important concept??? So I give you:
Les Amis (and Co) being silly with their significant others
Enjolras & Grantaire:Grantaire has the habit of bursting into song about everything and anything, narrating his surroundings, drumming on every available surface and making rhymes up as he goes. Enjolras is more often than not at the heart of the songs, so he tries to retaliate with spontaneous songs of his own concerning Grantaire. Poorly. They end up talking in rhymes sometimes, making “alas” rhyme with “jackass”, “meme” with “supreme”…
Courfeyrac & Combeferre: Courfeyrac is an amateur of fine memeing and never fails an opportunity to slip in a little “wow much doge” meme, quickly infecting Combeferre. They also “speak” whale around the flat, like Dory in Finding Nemo, because they find it hilarious.
Joly & Bossuet & Musichetta: Always up for a challenge, they watch those “Try not to Smile or Laugh” challenge videos together. Except they brought a variation. Every time one of them laughs, that person has to put a marshmallow in their mouth. It ends up with them looking like hamsters, crying with laughter, watching each other snort and spitting out marshmallow paste. It’s grand.
Bahorel & Feuilly: They dare each other. And double dog dare each other if needed. And it’s not like the game ever freaking ends, because they both want to win that unwinnable game, okay? As a Broadway enthusiast, Bahorel knows all duet songs and choregraphies by heart, and brings Feuilly along for a two man show in their kitchen. Feuilly makes most of the lyrics up.
Jehan & Montparnasse: They send each other snaps constantly. And not the cute kind. They pull the worst faces, use the worst filters. Even when they’re in the same room, they try to make each other laugh via snapchat. Parnasse trusts Jehan not to screenshot the ugliest ones. That is real hardass trust right there
Eponine & Cosette: They speak PTA mom. To each other. And it’s very hard not to crack up, because they call each other suburban mom names with a high pitched voice, saying they want to see the manager at the mildest “inconvenience”. Eponine makes a very convincing tiger mom when she wips her fringe and purses her lips, and Cosette gets fits of laughter every time
Ok we're gonna need a LOT more stories about you and your sibling craziness - cmon there's gotta be a whole heap of family tales you can share?!?
One of the things you ought to know about me is that I LOVE talking about my siblings. So yes, I’d be delighted to share some more stories! It’ll probably be one at a time though because most of them need BACKSTORY and/or PERMISSION TO TELL ON THE INTERNET.
The Haunted Easter Bunny
So this was one of the rare times in my life when my step-siblings weren’t around. It was just my mom, my brother T and my sister H ( @believingfate) on Easter. We were probably…nine? Ten? Somewhere around there and my mom had just started teaching fourth grade so she wanted to make sure we kept up our good Family Vibes™ by having dinner together as much as possible.
So we’d just finished eating and my mom was like, “Hey, do you guys want to hear a story? A SPOOKY story?”
And we all knew my mom’s stories, they’re the best, so we were like “HELL YEAH,” but more like “Yes, please” because my mom and dad gave us manners, thanks. (Also, although my parents were divorced, I was pretty convinced that my dad would materialize out of thin air and chastise us for swearing even if we were at my mom’s lol).
So my mom started to tell us about these three kids who lived in a house like ours, went to a school like ours, and who had chocolate Easter bunny candy like ours. She did the voices and shook the furniture to show how the thunder shook the house and everything and we were l i v i n g . . .
In fear. We were living in fear as she described how the kids all went to bed and then, in the middle of the night, heard the front door open.
Creeeeeeaaaaaaaaak, my mom squeaked, drawing her fingernails over the wood table.
Tonight, I thought, we die.
Unfortunately, my mom didn’t realize that we were terrified, not just excited. She said, “They hear something heavy come up the stairs. Thump…thump…THUMP!” She shouted, flashing her hands at us. “Very faintly they can hear a ghostly voice. Where…is….my….head?” She pointed accusingly to the headless chocolate Easter bunny lying on the table and suddenly we knew.
I was glued to my seat, eyes wide, my sister H was staring at her plate like she’d be able to not hear the story if she stared hard enough, and my brother T was standing next to his chair rather than sitting in it. Because we’d just eaten the head of a chocolate Easter Bunny and this story was about three kids and holy shit there are three of us.
This isn’t a story, it’s a frickin’ prophecy, I thought.
“’It’s the Easter Bunny!’ the kids cry to each other,” my mom said, “’We ate his head and he wants it back!’ They hear the dreaded bunny hop up the last of the stairs and make its way to their room. Where….is….my…HEAD.” My mom reached behind her and rattled the cabinet. “He tried to open the door. They could hear him trying to turn the knob with his paws. Where is….my…HEAD.”
I wiped my eyes frantically because I was tough and not scared at all.
It was at this point my mom realized that we were terrified, probably because at least one of us (me) was starting to cry from fear. So she tried to stop being horrifying and lighten the story up because we were nine and her sound effects were really scary.
My mom quickly finished, “And he burst into the room, asking where his head was. ‘We ate it!’ the children cried. The ghost Easter bunny said, ‘Oh, okay!’ And disappeared, content that his chocolate head was where it was supposed to be!”
“Haha,” I said weakly and T and H followed suit. My mom was feeling pretty good about saving the story and making it funny, so she let us eat some more chocolate before doing the dishes. She went upstairs to get ready for bed, leaving us to it.
So we did the dishes and we wanted to watch a movie to forget the Horrors™. Mom still wasn’t back downstairs, so I was nominated to go upstairs to get her. The reason why I was nominated was because my mom was a frickin’ bat and never turned on the lights in the house because she could see in the dark. So, as the least afraid of the dark (or rather the least willing to show it), I was sent up the stairs.
I looked into her dark room and didn’t see her. I could kind of make out something white in the middle of the room though and thought it could be her pajamas. “Mom?”
I stepped into the room. “Mom?”
From the depths of darkness came a sound. “OoooOOOOooOOOOoOOOH!”
“NO!” I shouted reflexively. The white thing wasn’t my mom–it was a ghost!
IT’S THE HAUNTED EASTER BUNNY, I thought and panicked. I screamed. T and H were halfway up the stairs to see what was taking so long and they screamed.
Then we were ALL screaming and running around the landing. T tried to shove himself into the laundry hamper, H ran halfway down the stairs and then back up again. I ran into the bathroom and slammed the door, gibbering.
My siblings started pounding on the bathroom door. “Let us in! Let us in!”
I held onto the doorknob for dear life. If I open the door, the headless bunny will get me too, I thought. Goodbye, T and H.
In that instant, I was ready to let my siblings die, I swear.
No, I thought, no. I need to save them. Dad will ask questions if they die here. I have to open the door.
I let them in, still screaming, and we slammed the door shut, locking it and sobbing. H jumped into the bathtub and T slammed his back against the door and I stood on the toilet so that I’d have the height advantage when the giant bunny broke in.
From insider her dark ass room, my mom began to laugh.
“It’s just me,” she said. We could hear her walk onto the landing. “Kids? You’re laughing, right?”