N͏ E͏ R͏ O͏

“Josh!” The door to their apartment flung open, and a grocery laden chef breezed past the kitchen to drop her variety of market findings.

“You, hey you, I gotta talk to you about—“ She was interrupted by their faithful golden retriever and nanny, and stopped to give her a quick kiss and a scratch in greeting. “-yes, hi hi hi~

I’ll take that.” And swept up her toddler from the dog bed, spinning a quick 360 in her flurry to scan for her husband. “Josh?”

@fuascailt

"Julia?" he stepped into the room to see the pup wagging her tail and the baby in the loving arms of her mother.

Curiously, his eyes scan the state of her and the loaded bags and groceries in the kitchen.

"What's...up?"

“Take a look.” With a breathless grin, barely restrained, she thrust a ripped open letter into Josh’s hands.

It was an acceptance to an application, long sent and practically forgotten about. But there it was, an opportunity sought after by so many of the great chefs.

“It’s from the French Laundry.” She shifted Bernadette to her hip to come to Josh’s side, reread the letter again. The offer to come and train, work and apprentice under their chef.. all the way in California.

“I mean that’s crazy, right? It’s.. I mean..?” A look up at him and down at the paper again, teeth pulling at her lower lip.

It would mean going away, to the other side of the country for a year. So much in their lives had changed since she’d even written, but this..

“what do you think?”

Looking down from Julia's grin, he took the letter in his hands and skimmed the blurred words, then reaching into his pocket for his glasses and put them on.

The French Laundry...

Is that like, a laundromat or-- Oh wait. This was something Julia had talked about, like a really long time ago it felt like. And now,

'..delighted to offer you a place with us.'

"You got it." he turned to her, then grinned as his own excitement finally kicked in. "You got it!"

Wrapping his arms around his wife, he lifted them both up in a celebratory spin, ending with a kiss on Julia's lips.

"Congratulations! When do you start?"

Sometimes I feel like I'm being watched.

Are they out there? Are they looking in, ready to pull me out of this.. place of pretend?

Thinking that pulling down the blinds of the windows will shield me. Shield them.

that's where you took the wrong turn It keeps the light out,

but everything else still stays.

What is it. Because I'm looking over my shoulder and I'm not even outside. I'm at home. Where it's supposed to be safe.

I'm being watched. I'm sure of it.

They're there, looking in.

Looking on. Familiar. Long used and abused.

A mirror image. what, is the reflection?

#drabble

“Josh!” The door to their apartment flung open, and a grocery laden chef breezed past the kitchen to drop her variety of market findings.

“You, hey you, I gotta talk to you about—“ She was interrupted by their faithful golden retriever and nanny, and stopped to give her a quick kiss and a scratch in greeting. “-yes, hi hi hi~

I’ll take that.” And swept up her toddler from the dog bed, spinning a quick 360 in her flurry to scan for her husband. “Josh?”

@fuascailt

"Julia?" he stepped into the room to see the pup wagging her tail and the baby in the loving arms of her mother.

Curiously, his eyes scan the state of her and the loaded bags and groceries in the kitchen.

"What's...up?"

emmbrr

if you say 'fuck capitalism' and 'eat the rich' that's all fine and good but you should probably stop ordering shit off Amazon

emmbrr

i know a few people are adding, "and this major company, and this other major company" but no other store's ceo even compares to Jeff Bezo's multi billion dollar status. Jeff Bezos is the rich you say you want to eat. and every influencer i come across, every family holiday wishlist, is made on Amazon. cancel your prime subscription and shop literally anywhere else

Everything I’ve Ever Let Go Of Has Claw Marks On It

Artist: David Altmejd

onlylivinboy

“Yes..” They had talked about it. At some length, hadn’t they? Except— eugh? Not really, it felt like. Yes and no.

“He wants to spend his life with me.” Gabe clarified slowly. And he’d accepted the proposal, way back when. A lifetime ago.

“He’s said, he doesn’t think the marriage part is necessary. I get that, i mean. I do, I get it now.” He paused.

“But I know it means something to him.”

Because even back on Asgard, that talk before making their way back to one another. Catching themselves daydreaming, about what it would be like.

Still.

“And, i know.. he wants to make me happy.” Brain cogs, whirring whirring, thinking thinking. How best to formulate this feeling into words.

“I wanna show him.. that we can have that. We can fill up the great hall, and- dance and eat cake and all that frilly shit.” He hadn’t forgotten. Rue loved a great big feast, loved dancing.

“All the stuff, any other Asgardian couple gets to do.” It was Rúne’s home, after all. His first home, his family.

And it didn’t have to go bad, just because it was them.

“—and also I do kinda wanna make, all those snooty Asgardians see what he looks like. Actually happy.” C’mon, right??

Except.

“…but what if i’ve got him all wrong?”

Ah. Rue was team marriage is a farce, huh.

The little he knew about the warrior told him that tracked, considering the clown show he had been forced to be part of back on Asgard.

The father chuckled, seeing Gabe's petty side when it came to proving he was right.

"Can't know unless you... ask.

You can't rea--" he stopped himself, frowning. "Listen, if you think you know, just do it. And if it doesn't go the way you expected it to, then do it again.

Do it until you hit bullseye." he shrugged. Even if Gabe could read Rue's mind, or however that worked, asking and failing was one of the two best choices.

"You're talking about the proposal, right?

Because if it's the wedding, then you definitely need to talk to him about it."

#onlylivinboy

[text] Hey question

[text] Do you Asgardians have like some kind of tradition when it comes to proposing to someone in public?

[text] Like, you get to pelt the proposer with tomatoes, or challenge them to a duel, or hang him over a cliff for three days?

@magni-thorson

#magnithorson

[text] How are you holding up?

The dust had settled slightly, at least, as settled as it could be. Knowing just how long of a journey this would be, he didn't expect anyone to have put their guard down.

@itworksifyouworkit

#itworksifyouworkit

1anonyymous1

From “Come over” to “Come home” is a real relationship goal for me.

His quick answer lands leaving Julia to look as if she’d just been slapped. Open mouthed, she begins shaking her head in some kind of disbelief as she waits for his follow up.

didn’t think she’d care…

…that much?

take it this badly?

“…Well I do.”

Arms out she lets them fall with a light smack against her sides, shrugged her shoulders to look up at him in challenge.

And what about that?

“What, care too much?

Or have I shown you too little.

That’s on me, that’s what you’re saying.” Right? She’d heard that one before, from him. On the island. That awful time in the middle of it all, his answers to her desperate attempts to show him the hurt.

“You stand by that one?” Wow..

Too much or too little?

ugh, no. "No, I'm not saying you care too little about me. That's not, what I'm saying. At all." hurt clouded his demeanor, thinking of all the times she'd been there for him - in particular when he'd finally decided to get clean, and she stayed with him.

for what that was worth.

"I'm sorry. But you told me a long time ago that you weren't my responsibility, and I guess I took that to heart, then.

I guess I... took that as an opportunity."

' i believe that's your perspective '

He could laugh.

Instead, he knitted his hands together to rest on his lap. Calm. Patient.

He hoped.

"Of course I do. By all means. Let me hear your perspective." let him hear about the ways it hurt her and how she felt and how it might seem to her,

that what he did to not get his cover blown in a very dangerous situation that ended up in a life or death battle, affected her.

"I mean, you were caught in the crossfire too. Things were, said, at that warehouse."

Julia pressed his lips together, about to begin but he was talking again. Ah.

“I asked if you want to understand my perspective.

Or do you not trust, that I’ve already taken the time to understand yours?” She sat back in her seat.

Things were, said, at that warehouse.

“I said things.” She exhaled, owning that with a nod. “I made choices. Some I regret.”

A long pause, remembering- his face. The hurt she’d thrown at him in the life or death struggle. The hell of those moments before their rescue.

Sucking in a breath, she moved her seat back, started to gather plates together. Maybe now wasn’t the time to have this discussion. Maybe, there never would be a good one, and this should be left to the past.

“Is that what you want to talk about?” Maybe that was what this was about. “Because I am sorry, Josh.”

At least one of them could say that.

“…But I thought we were talking about something else.”

She didn’t have much desire to debate on her perspective in this, or her right to feel the harm done. She continued clearing off the table.

“I made choices. So did you.”

One breath out, Josh put his palms out, signalling for Julia to go on. He was listening.

No, actually. That wasn't what he wanted to talk about. But now that she mentioned it. Sure, maybe.

"Yeah, so..

--Julia, can you, stop?"

His gaze followed her moving around, but it was making him nervous.

"We both made our choices, and we have to live with them. Now I've accepted yours." however hurtful or wrong or agonizingly truthful she told it.

"Are you able to accept mine? Because sometimes it feels like you haven't. No matter how much understanding you've done."

Not to mention the nightmare on that island.

She set the dishes down and stood in place, the tired exasperation in her expression tough to mask as she listened to him. Still unwilling to hear her side out?

“Josh I have accepted your choice. I think you still haven’t accepted that your choice hurt me.” Trying to be as clear and direct with him as possible now, she took a step forward, studying his face intently for some confirmation of it.

“But what continues to hurt me, is that it seems like you don’t think I have the right to be hurt about this. If you did, you would have..

At the very least apologize. Show me, some kind of understanding when I reach for it. Instead of taking it as some kind of attack on you.”

Was she making sense here? Clear enough this time?

“Accepting your choice doesn’t take away what I feel about it. Because what I feel isn’t wrong.

Kind of wish you could try accepting that for a change.”

Some understanding comfort, an apology from her husband, meeting her in that- felt like the thing that might actually help.

Instead of what. Trying to protect.. which of them, from what already happened?

' your choice hurt me '

' you don't think i have the right to be hurt '

"Didn't think you'd care.."

A slip of the tongue, maybe he wasn't supposed to say that part out loud. Blinking, he looked up at his wife, searching.

no that wasn't right.

was it?

"..that much.

I mean, you do care. But I didn't think you'd take it, this badly."