➸ 04.22.2017 | Its CRUNCH time! 👊💦 Only one more week of school before finals - so I made a tracker/list to keep an eye on everything I need to finish until then. Don’t know about anyone else, but I’m sweating buckets. (Image on left page made by me! Figured it’s time to throw some of my art on my spreads 💖)
this is my first official post and I’m pretty proud of it haha there’s only one more week until spring break and I’m so excited! I’ll finally have time to study and rest since I haven’t been able to take care of my body lately ://
Guys…so as you know I have been interning at the sex offender management unit parole office this entire semester…sitting in on the group therapy sessions with the offenders on parole and…today I cried because I only have one more week left and the group was so powerful and…the psychologist, this amazing young woman who has made this experience absolutely amazing as well…
asked me to work with her on her 2nd book that’s in the works, to work with her on writing it and conducting research about female sex offenders and forensic psychology, and it would be paid and I would have my name published in the book as well…of course I literally exclaimed YES
Prompt: Could you write something about Tim having a s/o who’s a doctor or nurse? Love your writing!
Requested by: ANON
Your relationship is a bit unorthodox. You know this. You embrace it. As you trudge into your apartment, you open the doors on the balcony before sliding your shoes off. You pad into the kitchen, take out the two cartons of Thai food, and pop yours into the microwave first.
A few moments later, you hear the rustling of curtains, and Tim comes in. It’s six in the morning, and the sun is just starting to rise. Tim is dressed in his full suit, and you smile as he pulls off the hood. A moment later, he’s left in nothing but his pants. As your food finishes, you pop his into the microwave.
With a smile you watch him move around the kitchen pulling out glasses of water and silverware. When the microwave dings you pull out his food and bring both plates to the table. You eat in silence, both reading and unwinding.
Dinner is followed by a quick shower together before collapsing into bed. You wake up six hours later to the sound of clacking. Dressed in one of Tim’s shirts, you pad out to the den and take a seat next to him while he taps away on his laptop. You open your book and wait for him to finish. He wraps things up fairly quickly before sliding the laptop away.
Finishing your page, you slide the book away before saying, “You sent seven henchmen to my ER tonight.”
He smiles, “Jason and Bruce sent seven henchmen to your ER. I was busy hacking a security system.”
You scowl, “It’s not funny, Tim. The doctors always get cranky when they have to work on bad guys. Not to mention it backs us up big time, and then there’s the security protocols.”
He leans over and kisses you, “Next time we’ll deposit them closer to another hospital.”
You smile, “That’s all I ask.”
You sit there for another minute before saying, “We have to go to the store.”
“Why, did the take-out menus catch on fire?”
“Not since Alfred was here last time. We’re out of food, and just about everything else. We really need to clean too.”
“You only have one more shift this week, right?” You nod, “Then I’ll take the rest of the week off and we’ll run errands and clean, and all that good stuff.”
You smile, before saying, “You are such a liar.”
He laughs, “I’ll call the cleaning service tomorrow. Alfred’s due for a visit, and I’d rather not get a lecture again.”
You nod, “Okay I’ll make a list so you can run to the store.”
“Why do I have to go to the store?”
“Because I’m the one that can cook.”
He shrugs, “Send it to my phone.”
You nod before curling up next to him. Your relationship is weird and you love it.
Harry had been gone for a few weeks in LA, meeting with different writers and working in the studio. I, however, was stuck in London without him.
“Hello?” I smiled at the sound of his sleepy voice on the other line as I shrugged out of my coat and tossed my keys onto the side table in the hallway that Harry had insisted we didn’t need.
“Hey, sleepy head.”
“Mmmm, g’mornin’, love.” He paused and I could practically see him stretching his long limbs in my head, “S’pose it’s not morning for you though, huh?”
“You would be correct, it is 5 PM here.”
“Just getting in from work then, yeah?”
I smiled at his complete memorization of my schedule, “Indeed, I am.”
“How was your day?”
“It was alright, it’s raining here.”
“Wow that’s some amazing news, never would’ve guessed that.” He teased.
I laughed and then sighed, “I miss you.”
“Miss you too, only one more week though, love.”
I ran a hand through my hair, closing my eyes, trying to imagine he’s next to me rather than half a world away. “One more week.” I whisper. “How’s thee studio going?”
I could hear the excitement in his voice as he talked about the new music and it made my heart swell. After about a half hour of talking (mostly listening on my part) I frowned at the sound of wind in the phone, “Babe? Are you outside?”
“Yeah, um, listen I have to go, alright? I’ll try and call you later when I’m at lunch to say goodnight. I love you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to feel the disappointment, “Okay, love you.”
I sighed as the line went dead and with nothing else to do, I tied my hair up and started working on dinner, opening a bottle of wine as I did so. I remembered buying it with Harry when he was still here. We were supposed to drink it together on the date night that was promised weeks ago but was always pushed aside for other commitments.
I sighed as I finished making dinner, realizing I made enough for two out of habit and I nearly cried right there. He didn’t know just how much I missed him, how lonely I felt when he was gone. I tried to hide it from him because it wasn’t his fault, he had to work. And if I was being honest, maybe I was being a little dramatic because he usually did work from home. But the house still felt too empty when he was gone, impossibly big, and the bed practically swallowed me up without his long limbs taking up two-thirds of it.
I showered and crawled into bed in one of Harry’s shirts that still smelled vaguely like him. I knew as the time passed with my phone in my hand that he wasn’t calling me. My phone slipped out of my hand onto the floor as I slipped into sleep.
I was sleeping, but some part of my mind registered the door of the house opening, but ignored it. I heard the door of our bedroom open, but ignored it. I ignored the sound of a bag falling to the floor and boots being kicked off.
But then the bed shifted, and someone was jumping up and down on the mattress, making my body jolt violently. I groaned and began to open my eyes, “What the—“
The bed stopped moving and as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I saw Harry’s silhouette looming over me. “Sorry, were you sleeping?” That impossibly cocky grin on his face as he stared down at me.
It took my mind a few moments to process, my brain working through the fog of sleep, but it was Harry. Harry was really here. I finally screamed his name and jumped up, tackling him to the bed and kissing him all over as he laughed, his arms wrapped around me fiercely, just as unwilling to let me go as I was him.
“You said… You said one more week.”
He kissed me before answering, “Missed you too much, decided to come home early. I wanted to surprise you.”
I thought back to our conversation earlier, “The wind…”
He smirked, “I was boarding the plane.”
I shook my head, grabbing a pillow and hitting him over the head with it, “You sneak!” I accused.
He laughed, “You don’t wanna do that, love.” He gestured to the pillow.
I quirked an eyebrow, “Oh really?” And hit him with it again.
His smile remained, but his voice was low and dangerous as he said, “I’m warning you.”
“What’re you gonna do?” I stood up on the bed and took a swing at his stomach. He caught it against his body and with a tug brought me down on the bed next to him, beginning to hit me with the pillow as well as I laughed uncontrollably. “Okay, okay!” I squealed, “I give up, I give up, you win.” He sinks down to his knees beside me on the bed and sweeps the hair out of my face. “Hotels are really lonely when you’re not there to have a good pillow fight with me.”
I smirked, “I can imagine.” I pulled him by the shirt until he was kissing me again. I sighed against his mouth, “I can’t believe you’re home.”
He kissed me again quickly, “Can’t get rid of me that easily, love. You’re stuck with me.“
Fluffy fluff please! Tsuki getting excited about seeing his GF, who's been away for a little while on a trip, and she surprises him by coming home early and going to a game or visiting him at school? :D
Ah, how happy I am to receive requests for my darling husband! I am sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoy this slice of fluff! 💕
When Tsukishima first learned of your trip to America for a two week-long study program, he had been indifferent, only telling you to make the decision based on what was best for you. Although he would never openly admit this to you while in range of hearing, you could tell he was slightly bothered for your impending extended absence. Even when you tried to assure him that it was only ‘two weeks’ he had brushed it off with a nonchalant shrug before giving you a kiss goodbye. The first week by as usual with the exception of not having to walk to class with you or eat lunch together. It was a bit lonelier than had had expected, but Yamaguchi filled the empty space with friendly chatter. ‘Only one more week’ he’d think before bed each night.
Wednesday’s match arrived without event, the team fired up with the hope of victory by the end of the evening. The blonde has never expressed an inkling of excitement when it came to a game, simply writing it off as another to cross. He at least had a little enthusiasm when you were cheering him on from the audience. It irritated him how much your presence had an influence on him, but even more so when his teammates would comment on it.
He was relieved to finally escape the energy from the gym, opting to take a breather in the hall. His moment of peace didn’t last long when a light voice addressed him. “Good game, Tsukishima. You played well today.” His first instinct was to roll his eyes and ignore whoever it was, thinking it might be someone trying to make a move on him, but was pleasantly surprised to find you beaming at him instead.
The tall male did nothing but stare at you, unfamiliar feelings stirring in his chest that he couldn’t quite put a name too. From a logical stance, two weeks was hardly a long amount of time, but after becoming so used to seeing you most days out of the week, he didn’t realise how dull his life was without you to liven it up.
“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to hug me?” You pouted, only to find your form being swallowed in his embrace. An airy sigh escaped your lips as you leaned into him, content to finally see his face again.
“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to be back home this early.” It wasn’t often that you were able to surprise the blonde like this, and the expression on his face was well worth it.
“I was able to get an earlier flight back to Japan, and since I knew you had a match today it worked out perfectly.” You leaned back slightly, hands sliding up his arms to gently cup his cheeks. “I really missed you, Kei.”
He had a feeling that his teammates would hound him after this, but only for you would he show a soft side to. “I missed you too. It’s nice to have you back.” You thought your eyes were deceiving you as red flushed his ears, stemming down to his cheeks as he glanced away, unable to meet your gaze.
“Cute…” The simple word left your lips in a hushed voice as you committed this scene to memory. There was no telling when you’d ever see your boyfriend blush like this again.
Tsukishima whipped around furiously in an attempt to hide his face. “Stop calling me cute! I did not miss this at all!” You couldn’t help but laugh, a warm feeling spreading through your chest at the usual banter. He missed you as much as you missed him.
This is based on that really good art by @masdanii a little while ago captioned with “Words Were Said” and a conversation I had with @sovvung about that (awesome) art. This kind of started as an excuse for me to practice writing in Angry Stan’s voice and try to get better at it. Thanks to those two users for being awesome writing inspiration!!
Stan stumbled over something in the dying light of the
shack’s living room. He caught his balance on the wall, stopping himself from
face planting to the ground. Grumbling, he turned around to see what it was. A
backpack. Jeez, thought Stan, Mabel must have left it down here. Stan
was worried about the girl—she’d just come home and flung her stuff down,
apparently, and tore up to the attic without even a ‘hello’ thrown back. She
came home much sooner than he expected. Stan had noticed little things that seemed
to be inconsequential, but were slowly stealing Mabel’s happiness. Mainly-
Dipper spending so much time without her and with Ford instead.
Stan sighed and leaned down to pick up the pack. He was sure
Mabel would miss her things soon, and he wanted to at least try and make her
smile today. As he bent down, he heard a rush of static and the edge of a
“Mabel will be fine on her own. She has a magnetic
personality—“a rush of static came over the line and then cleared up into
Dipper’s voice, “We’ve never really been
apart before.” Another shift and Ford’s voice came over the line again “And isn’t it suffocating?” with another screech of static the walkie-talkie
Stan found in the bag went silent. Obviously this conversation was not meant to
be heard, the button was probably accidentally pushed down to communicate.
Nevertheless, Stan crushed the walkie-talkie to pieces in his hand, his arm
shaking with barely concealed rage. He set the bag down and flung the pieces
from his hand. The plastic aggravated the cut he’d received a couple weeks ago
from the portal on his hand, but this time he didn’t even wrap it.
Stan sat down unsteadily in his chair. His entire body was
shaking with anger over what he heard.
How dare he say that
about Mabel? How dare he! If she
hadn’t dropped her bag—no she can never hear that—Dipper’s a good kid, he
wouldn’t leave his sister, right? What is he doing to this family? He had one job, stay away from the kids, and
now, n-now he’s, ugh… Stan’s thoughts chased themselves in circles as his
body gave way to tears. He made no noise, just sat in his chair, letting his
thoughts run wild circles through his brain, working himself up over the words
he’d heard exchanged more and more, but trying to ignore the last sentence as
it kept building within him.
Stan struggled to draw in a breath in between his quiet
sobs, and suddenly Ford’s words hit him harder than before. Isn’t it suffocating? I’m SUFFOCATING? Did—did he ever…Was I always just…Too
dumb, slowed him down, held him back, s u f f o c a t e d my brother?
Stan pushed down with his thumb on the new cut on his hand
and hissed out an expletive. But the pain served his purpose and cleared his
head. Looking around him, he swallowed the rest of his tears and stood up,
straightening his Mr. Mystery suit. He grabbed the broom and swept up the
broken walkie-talkie pieces, dumping it in the trash. Everything his right hand
touched hurt, but he let himself feel that pain rather than keep thinking too
hard about what he heard.
Finally, he wrapped it up, grabbed a pitt cola to hide the
injury, and walked up to the attic to talk to Mabel. Stan listened to her
sadness over growing up, her fears and her worries, and gave the best advice he
could. He allowed his own vulnerability to shine through for a second, the old
ache that his twin didn’t stick with him through thick and thin, before rubbing
Mabel’s hair affectionately with a small smile. Mabel responded in kind,
smiling up at Stan and told him thanks. When Stan left her room, she was smiling
again, picking out pictures for the scrapbook and getting back to her normal,
And Stan was going to make sure that whatever had transpired
after the static on that walkie-talkie, nothing
would take that happiness away from his grandniece.
Finally as the sun was starting to go down, Dipper and Ford
returned home. Stan saw Dipper covered in scratch marks and looking generally
beat up. Stan swallowed another wave of anger and told him to go clean up and
head straight to bed. Dipper dropped his bag and ran up the stairs, looking too
excited about whatever they’d done that day to argue back at Stan.
Ford comes in behind him, not even sparing Stanley a glance,
and heads to the kitchen. Stan hears him puttering around in there, probably
making coffee. He stands and makes his way into the kitchen, coming to stand
just behind his brother.
“Ford,” he starts, his gruff voice quiet. Ford doesn’t turn
around, but a tensing of the shoulders means he knows his brother heard him.
Stan tries again, “Stanford,” and winces, his voice cracking.
At that Ford turns around, his face hardening into a mask of annoyance, to ask
what Stan wants with him.
Stan feels a tremor go through him and he shudders. For as
much time as he’s had to think, he still doesn’t know what he wants to say.
Luckily, Ford makes it easy for him.
“What do you want now, Stanley? I’ve had a long day and I
don’t have time for whatever nonsense you’re giving me right now.”
Stanley feels his spine go rigid with resolve, an angry
light in his eyes. His voice is low and strong when he speaks this time. “Ford,
have you ever been choked nearly to death? Have you ever been thrown into such
a tiny space that you can feel the air go stale and you start to panic,
thinking ‘this is it, this is the end’? Have you ever been suffocated?” Another tremor goes through Stan and he lets it show,
his arms shaking slightly. “Have you ever felt their hands close around your
neck as you try to get away, only to be dragged back into them, to watch the
look of glee in their eye as they slowly kill you? Or worse, the complete lack
of caring as you’re slowly drifting into nothing, just another check mark on a
list of things to take care of.” Stan takes a deep breath and raises his voice,
“have you ever suffocated?”
Stan never took his eyes off of his brother’s face. At first
it was still that hard annoyance, then confusion, a flash of recognition, a
wince of sympathetic pain, eyes wide and features going slack. When Stan
repeated suffocated though, is when
Stan saw a light click on in his big brain, and Ford’s expression turned
“Don’t be over dramatic Stanley. Where are these questions
“No puedo respirar!I know what it feels like to be suffocating, Stanford. All you know is a brother who has always had
your back and stood by you! A brother willing to do anything for you, a brother
willing to spend 40 years of his life making up for an accident! And you have
the gall to call me suffocating?”
“Stan, that’s not what I—“
“No! How could you say,”
Stan’s voice cracked but he didn’t stop, plowing on, feeling his anger turn to
sadness, “that about me? How could you j-just dismiss our entire childhood like
that? Did you ever even like me—or was I just the dumb muscle in your shadow?”
Stan’s voice was cracking and his gestures were less sporadic. He could feel
the tears threatening to spill over, but still he waited for his brother’s
words. If his brother could contradict him, he’d stay.
Stanford looked back, surprise and hurt written over his
face. His jaw was slack, hanging open like a fish. But he didn’t say anything.
Stanley swallowed hard and turned away. “I’ll be out of your space soon, then.
Only one more week until this suffocating
nuisance is away from you forever. Sorry I can’t make summer end faster.”
And with that he stalked out of the house, straight to his
car, and drove away.
He didn’t see Stanford crouch down in the kitchen, one hand
to his heart, the other to his mouth, stifling himself as he cried. He didn’t
see Stanford stay that way for over an hour. He didn’t see Stanford rock
himself to his feet and into the bathroom. He didn’t hear his brother retching
into the toilet, sick at his own thoughts and actions. He didn’t hear the
muffled gasps of pain as Stanford took care of his injuries. He didn’t see
Stanford stop outside of his own room and lean his head against the old wood,
guilt spread across the planes of his face. He didn’t hear Stanford walk
woodenly down to the basement, snagging Dipper’s backpack as he went. He didn’t
know his brother was finally sealing the problem they created in front of the
machine that started it. He didn’t know everything he wanted from his brother
was just subverted by the wrong set of twins fighting.
And at the end of the summer, after the twins had left
(together—Stan hadn’t heard Stanford rescinded his offer to Dipper), he didn’t
see Stanford offer him their childhood dreams. All he saw was the open road
blurred by tears, barely choking out breaths between his sobs.